


for want of gold

by lallemanting



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, but they'll find their way to each other, eliott is just trying to find happiness, get ready for some extra soulmate behavior, lucas is going to brood for a little while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 63,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lallemanting/pseuds/lallemanting
Summary: When your soulmate touches you, it leaves behind an imprint, color staining your skin. Red for romantic soulmates. Blue for platonic. That’s the universe Lucas knows, the one he’s supposed to take part in. He wishes he didn’t have to.Or an enemies to friends to lovers/soulmate au where Lucas is jaded, Eliott is hopeful, and it should be simple, but of course it isn’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the fic that's been swirling around my brain for so long that i'm surprised I finally actually sat down and wrote it! I love soulmate aus but also a little bit of slow burn so naturally I had to find a way to combine the two. 
> 
> i've been wanting to write this for a while now, so I hope you enjoy! <3

_ “I did not know that mankind was suffering for want of gold.” _

_ -Henry David Thoreau _

Campus wouldn’t be so bad, Lucas thinks, if it weren’t so crowded. 

The problem is there are people  _ everywhere _ , milling about the brick paths, weaving in and out of door frames and classrooms, gathered together to take a moment to chat, running through the grass to try and make it to their classes on time, and Lucas can’t catch a break.

It’s like an elaborate game of tag where everyone is “it” except for him. More often than not Lucas finds himself walking head down with his hood pulled up around his face, the cuffs of his sweater balled in the palms of his fists, dodging people right and left just trying to get to his lectures. It’s exhausting.

But this afternoon Lucas needs to study,  _ really _ needs to study for his anatomy exam this week, so he retreats to the one place on campus he can usually count on being alone.

He’s crammed himself in the back of the library at his favorite table, hidden neatly under a window behind the philosophy section. Lucas had found the table his first year at university, a refuge away from the bustling center of campus and from the busy floors of the library where he can pull out his anatomy books in peace, studying the human body instead of worrying about other people for a few hours. 

He sips the coffee Yann had managed to slip him when his manager wasn’t looking and begins pouring over the diagram he needs to have memorized for his exam. By the time he reaches the twelfth label, he’s beginning to wonder why the human body needs so many parts to function properly.

Here, in his hidden corner of the library, Lucas lets his guard down a bit. His coat is slung across the back of the chair, leaving his neck a little more exposed than usual. He’s pushed up the sleeves of his shirt too so they stop just under his elbow making it easier to write without them in the way.

Lucas sighs, stumped in the middle of his practice diagram, and rests back against the chair, throwing his head back for a moment as he breathes.

He looks out the window at the leaves falling gently from the tree outside, the wind stripping the branches more quickly than they might otherwise have grown bare as campus begins to settle into late afternoon.

Lucas turns back to his notes, desperate to get through the sections he needs to look over so he can go home, maybe watch a movie or smoke with Yann, something to relax, when someone walks up briskly behind him.

It happens in a flash, just a second or two, but the boy’s hip is hitting the edge of Lucas’ notebook where it hangs off the table and then it’s falling, knocked to the ground. Lucas leans over in his seat to reach for it just as the boy stops and kneels to retrieve it.

And later, this moment will stick out in Lucas’ mind, the moment their fingers brush as they both reach for the notebook. Lucas snatches his hand back like he’s touched fire and feels the adrenaline shoot into his veins, his heart beating much too fast.  _ Shit, shit, shit, shit. _

Lucas stares down at the tips of his fingers, clasping his hand to his chest, and the boy isn’t even looking, isn’t even registering what could have just happened. Lucas can’t breathe, he can’t look, but he has to. He forces himself to examine his fingers and feels himself let out a sigh of relief at the lack of color he finds there. 

It’s only the color of his flesh – no blue or red staining him – but Lucas is still regretting being so careless. He’d never forgive himself if he made a mistake and it ended up leaving behind a mark.

“Oops, sorry man,” the boy says, holding the notebook out to Lucas who doesn’t register he’s trying to give it back. He’s too caught up in thinking about how he accidentally touched this boy, how it didn’t leave a mark. 

_ At least I can cross him off the list _ , Lucas thinks wryly. 

“Here,” the boy says again, dark hair cropped close to his head, brown eyes peering down at Lucas. And then: “You okay man?”

Lucas may be relieved but that doesn’t mean the adrenaline has worked itself out of his body yet. His heart is still racing and his palms are sweaty and suddenly his quiet corner of the library feels too small, too cramped and he needs to get out of there. 

“Uh, yeah I’m fine,” Lucas says, but his voice is shaking as he reaches for the notebook and then he stands, shoving everything into his bag. “Thanks.” 

The boy nods and walks away, disappearing up the politics aisle and leaving Lucas on the verge of a breakdown. Lucas finishes zipping his bag and then pulls on his jacket, grateful he grabbed the one with a hood which he now pulls up over his head securing it snugly so it won’t fall off. Then he pulls the arms of his sweatshirt down past his fingertips, grasping the fabric in his hands. He feels safer that way, in his armor.

Lucas slings his bag onto his shoulders and he’s walking quickly back up through the philosophy section and onto the main floor of the library. His legs won’t stop now that they’ve started moving and he’s weaving his way expertly through the students, managing to not so much as brush against a single one. 

He’s so close to freedom, so close to open air he can almost taste it but as he pushes his way through the front doors, the crisp wind hits him shocking him back to reality and he nearly breaks down right there. Nearly, but not quite. Lucas’ life, a tightrope walk of close calls.

Fighting tears he runs across campus towards Yann and his apartment, desperate for some space he knows is his, a place where the only other person there is someone he doesn’t fear touching. Because with Yann he knows, he’s known for years. It’s a relief to have someone where he  _ knows _ .

When Lucas finally makes it through the door of his apartment, he’s met with silence, Yann still probably in class. Lucas rushes to his room, roughly shoving the door shut and falling onto his bed still wearing his coat. He can’t believe he was so stupid, so careless. 

His anxiety and relief wash over him in alternating waves and he lets the tears fall. And he sees red. And he sees blue. And he sees red and blue.

***

See, Lucas’ life has always been a swirl of reds and blues, blues and reds. And even though he’s tried to distance himself from it, the colors stay there, swirling patterns in his mind when he closes his eyes.

It’s like this. Reds on cheeks and fingertips and elbows. Blues on shoulders and forearms and knees. Reds for romantic soulmates, blues for platonic. And rarely, when the universe decides to give a little more choice, shades of purple.

(The first time Sofiane had touched Imane, his fingerprints left behind swirling purple marks on her hand. It had taken months for Imane to trust him with her heart enough for the marks to change to red.)

These marks, they’re signs from the universe shouting out across the void and saying  _ this person right here, they were made for you and you for them _ . It’s certainty in the face of uncertainty. It’s a mark of pride, a mark of love and friendship. It tells you that you aren’t alone, that you never have to face the world alone, because someone was made to walk through it with you. These bonds, no matter the shade, a sign that the stars worked a little harder for you.

For as long as he can remember, Lucas has watched people pass by with marks on their bodies left there by the touch of their soulmate, color seared there by the brush of skin against skin. Soft and glowing, little accessories of luck that shows the universe favors you.

Lucas had always wondered if it hurt, receiving your mark, like a burn or a sting. He wondered what it felt like when two pieces of a whole come together again.

Lucas is young the first time he watches it happen, sees the mark spread across someone’s skin for the first time. He’s six and watches as a little boy named Gabriel touches Camille’s arm and his touch turns to shades of deep red, staining her even after he pulls away. Lucas knows what that mark means – Gabriel and Camille are destined to love each other. The universe has just told them so.

He asks Gabriel after what it feels like, when you touch your soulmate. Gabriel tilts his head but then says it feels warm, like holding a hot drink in the palm of your hand. And Lucas thinks he could do with a bit of warmth. He thinks he’d like to be marked like that – a complement to your soul, a pairing made by the world around them.

It’s reassuring to think that his soulmate is out there, just waiting for a chance to know him. And Lucas grows up eager for stained skin, eager for a lasting touch.

But it’s easy, in a world like this, to forget that pain doesn’t go away. It’s not the kind of hurt Lucas feared when he was young – physical pain at the touch. But it’s pain nonetheless, something greater, deeper, that resonates.

See, relationships of any kind require work and attention, even if they are cosmically-determined. It’s not enough to just rely on the mark to keep it going. It’s a mark of potential, a mark of connection. But it’s not magic. And occasionally bonds break.

Lucas is thirteen when he learns that the marks can fade. It’s supposed to be rare, supposed to be something you don’t have to worry about, but it happens all the same.

And in the wreckage of the life he knew, Lucas is acquainted with his worst fear – that someone could be meant for someone else and choose not to love them anyway. People tell him not to worry, but it’s hard when it unfolds in front of him.

Lucas is fourteen when he decides he’d rather have no soulmate than one who is around only because their fingers were given a bit of magic, because the universe told them to be. So he dons layers and shut himself off, refusing to touch anyone new, and trying to forget about soulmates. It’s more comfortable there, in his self-imposed quarantine.

But it’s moments like the one in the library that forge cracks in Lucas’ shell, that lead him to start sobbing on his bed on a random Wednesday afternoon. Because what if that had been it, what if he had ruined all his careful avoidance, all his control over his own universe, with a simple mistake?

Lucas lies on his bed and the tears are still falling as he absentmindedly runs his fingers over his hand where the boy had touched him. He imagines the blue fingerprints, the red thumb that could be marking his skin now if it had been a different day, a different person, and he lets out another shuddering sob. 

He stays like that until the tears stop falling, until all that’s left is numbness, until the sun starts to set and his room fades from blue to gray to silver. Until the only light left is from his phone blinking with messages that will go unanswered.

***

Yann finds him like that later curled around himself in a darkened room, but still too early to be asleep. It’s only been an hour or two, but it feels like it’s been forever.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice soft and gentle.

“It’s nothing,” Lucas replies, his throat dry. He coughs.

Yann just looks at him, cocking an eyebrow because Lucas knows he doesn’t believe him. “Are you sure?” He’s sitting next to where Lucas is laying on the bed, one knee propped up on the bed, his hands resting on his knees as he turns to look at Lucas. “You know I can tell when you’re bullshitting me.”

And it’s true, Yann has always been able to see through his bullshit, has always been able to tell when something is wrong, something is off, and waits until Lucas is ready to tell him about it. 

And truth be told, given the few hours to let the panic dissipate, Lucas already feels much better about the situation, has calmed down enough to see it for what it was – a small mistake – and not the life-altering moment it felt like at the table in the back of the library.

So Lucas sighs, flopping onto his back, pulling feet up so his knees are propped up in the air and then groans. “I’m okay,” he starts because he know Yann has a tendency to get worked up when things like this happen, “but I accidentally touched someone today. It just…well you know how I feel about that.” 

He can see Yann visibly tense up at his words, but he doesn’t say anything, letting Lucas finish talking. “It freaked me out for a second, but it’s okay, it’s really okay. And no,” he laughs, throwing a smile towards Yann, “he wasn’t my soulmate.”

Yann is quiet for a moment, but then he’s cracking a smile back at Lucas and Lucas knows it’s all going to be alright. 

“Okay,” he says, rubbing his hands on his legs. “As long as you’re feeling okay now.” He looks at Lucas who gives him a small, reassuring smile. “Is there anything I can do?”

And normally Lucas would flinch away from an offer like this, lock his emotions down, get ready to move on, put the past behind him, but it’s just that when this happens, it reminds Lucas of how much he wishes that he didn’t have to worry so much about being touched. How he wishes that he could touch people without consequences. 

“Give me a hug?” Lucas asks, and it’s somewhat joking but mostly serious and Lucas can tell that Yann knows, he  _ always _ knows and his face lights up in a wide smile.

“Of course, Lu,” he says, and then Lucas is sitting up in his bed and Yann has turned himself more towards Lucas and he pulls him in for a bone-crushing hug, his arms strong around Lucas’ back and his face warm against Lucas’ cheek. 

Because Yann is one of the few people Lucas can touch without fear of a mandatory celestial attachment – they first touched years ago, before Lucas lost faith in soulmates, before Lucas even thought about the gravity of touching another person. 

And it’s funny because at the time, when Yann’s touch had left nothing behind, it really hadn’t meant much to Lucas. And then, a few years later, as Lucas began to grow into himself, there were days and weeks that he would have given  _ anything _ to have Yann be the one to leave trails along his skin. 

But now, strangely, it’s the very lack of color with Yann’s touch that is exactly what Lucas takes refuge in. So he takes and he takes when he can, eager to show the universe he’s made connections, forged bonds, without its help. 

(And when finds out Manon and Imane leave no color either, Lucas takes refuge in them too.)

Lucas and Yann sit there on the bed for a minute and Lucas finds himself relaxing in Yann’s grip, reveling in the contact he’s deprived of usually and then he’s pulling back (Yann always waits for him to pull back) and Lucas just smiles. 

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, Lu.”

“Want to order something for dinner?”

***

The next day, Lucas finds himself sitting on his couch with Yann, Arthur, and Basile all spread out around him in Yann’s and his living room. 

They’ve ordered pizza and had all come together on the premise that they were going to study but that had quickly devolved into a FIFA tournament that Basile was currently losing – badly.

“What the hell?” he yells, as he manages to lose again, this time to Arthur, who fistbumps Yann as he celebrates his victory.

“This is why we should have stuck to studying,” Lucas teases, his anatomy textbook lying open on the floor in front of him.

And in all honesty, he probably should still be studying, but he feels good enough about the material that he’ll probably just look over once more before bed and then again when he wakes up in the morning. 

After the fiasco of emotions yesterday, Lucas had managed to drag himself out of his bed and eat dinner with Yann and then still get a pretty thorough study session in at the desk in his room. And then this morning, he’d gotten up early with Yann to go with him to his shift at the coffee shop where he was able to snag his favorite table in the back corner and free coffee from Yann. 

(He was feeling okay, he really was, but he still couldn’t bring himself to go back to that table by the philosophy section.)

So after all of that, Lucas feels like he deserves a break with his friends, one where he can put down some of his defenses, rest, breathe. 

“Oh shut up Lucas,” Yann says, throwing a pillow at him. “We all know that you’re still going to do fine on your test.”

“You and Imane, I swear,” Arthur says, settling back down on the couch. “You act like it’s the end of the world before every exam and then you manage to get a good grade every. single. time. It’s annoying.” 

Lucas just laughs. “That’s what you think, but anatomy might actually kick my ass.”

“Sure, whatever you say Mr. Pre-Med,” Basile says, throwing the controller over at Yann who’s up next. “We all know you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

And then the boys are back to playing as the next round starts up between Arthur and Yann and Lucas can’t help but smile because in moments like these, he can’t help but feel enormously lucky.

He has people who actually pay attention, actually care about him, and he didn’t need the universe’s help to find them. He’s so comfortable, in fact, that he’s taken off his hoodie and sits now in only a t-shirt and sweatpants, his arms and neck bare.

See, the boys had all been surprisingly understanding when Lucas explained how he doesn’t touch people. Yann had known for years of course, but when they met Arthur and Basile at university, it hadn’t come up at first.

But then one day Basile had tried to give Lucas a high five and Lucas had felt himself begin to retreat, bracing himself for judgement as he explained. Except, Basile had only lowered his hand and said “okay cool, bro” and that was it, and Lucas wondered why he hadn’t done it sooner.

Lucas is jolted back to the living room by a victorious cheer from Yann and disgruntled groaning from Arthur who throws his controller onto the couch in defeat. 

“Take that!” Yann screams, and Arthur is rolling his eyes, pulling out his phone as it dings with a new message. 

“Boys!” Arthur says suddenly, reading something on his phone. “Party, tomorrow night. We’re going.”

“Um, hell yeah we are,” Basile agrees, fistbumping Yann who seems excited as well. 

“Lucas?” Yann asks, directing everyone’s attention to him.

“I don’t know guys,” Lucas says, because normally, he’s wary of parties – the crowds and alcohol making everything more stressful. 

“Oh come on,” Arthur encourages and Lucas is shaking his head.

But then Yann gives him a look and Lucas knows he’s not getting out of this. “Don’t worry Lu,” Yann says, “we’ll keep people away from you.” Lucas knows he means it.

And really, Lucas could use a night out, especially after his exam tomorrow, and his friends will be there to help him. So he finds himself nodding and a smile breaks across his face. “Yeah okay, I’ll come.”

The boys erupt in cheers and Lucas is starting to feel pretty excited about the whole thing when Basile speaks again.

“Who’s hosting?”

Arthur looks down at his phone again and then his face contorts into a kind of grimace. “Oh,” he says, looking up at Lucas and then back down at his phone again. “Um, it’s– well, it’s Idriss.”

“Idriss,” Yann repeats and then he’s looking at Lucas too, because he knows just what Lucas is thinking, they all do.

And then Lucas rolls his eyes and lets out a deep sigh. “You have got to be kidding me,” he says. 

And it’s not about Idriss. In fact, Lucas loves Idriss. After becoming friends with Imane, he’d ended up spending a lot of time with her brother and they got along great. 

It’s just that if Idriss is hosting, it means that his roommates will also definitely be there.

It means Eliott Demaury will be there. And that could be enough to ruin Lucas’ night.

***

Parties are not normally Lucas’ thing. That, at least, is one thing he knows for sure. It’s one thing that they’re loud and they’re tiring and Lucas would honestly prefer to just be at home on his couch. But they’re also a little terrifying.

See parties are also full of people – drunk people – with messy limbs and a severe lack of motor control. It’s crowds, especially with people that lack inhibition, that scare him the most. He’s always so careful, but at parties it’s a ripe opportunity for the one thing Lucas dreads most – being touched. 

And tonight, after being confronted with the fact that he will almost definitely run into Eliott Demaury, Lucas had almost not made it out the front door. But the boys had begged him to come anyway, and there was something burning in him that made it so he didn’t want  _ Eliott _ to be the reason he didn’t have a good time. So in the end, he’d shown up.

Lucas is sticking to walls and corners, as he’s always found that keeps him away from as many people as possible, and he’s wearing his trusty gray hoodie, hood pulled up to cover his neck and ears and sleeves long enough to flop down around his hands. 

He’s only on his second beer as he likes to remain alert at things like this, and he’s perched in a corner of the room, trying to locate his friends who have disappeared for the moment to go find more drinks.

(Yann had only left Lucas alone after Lucas had told him  _ twice _ that it was okay.)

The room is filled with people and every time Lucas watches someone brush against another person, trail fingers up and down an arm, makeout against a wall, he has to stop himself from flinching. 

Lucas knows the touching thing is a him problem, knows that other people are free to do as they please – even if that includes meeting their soulmate drunk at 1am in a stranger’s apartment. And hey, if that’s what they want to do, Lucas won’t stop them. But it’s not for him. It can’t happen like that for him.

Lucas knows that to a lot of people he’s being dramatic. He’s been told more often than not that accidental encounters are the most common way of finding your soulmate. He’s been told that his insistence on not being touched will make him miss his soulmate if they ever do meet. 

But when Lucas thinks about a stranger brushing his arm or knocking their knuckles together and leaving color on him and then having to, what, spend the rest of his life with this person? – he can’t help but feel a bit nauseous.

As if called by his current thoughts, loud laughter pulls his attention to the other side of the room where someone has just entered the party. There’s shouting and loud laughter and god, Lucas would know that voice anywhere. Because Eliott Demaury has just walked through the door. Lucas doesn’t suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

Eliott  _ fucking _ Demaury. Lucas wants to scream. He watches as Eliott comes into party and is immediately engulfed by people trying to say hello, his face turning this way and that to make sure he’s talking to everyone. And god, he’s smiling too, Lucas thinks, face split into a wide grin as Eliott settles into his element as the center of attention – a brightly burning star in his own solar system.

It’s  _ really _ fucking irritating how much people seem to love him.

Because here’s the thing. Lucas knows it’s all fake. He knows that Eliott seems all nice and carefree and fun but is really a judgmental asshole with boundary issues. It’s been like this since the first time they met – Eliott being kind and warm with literally everyone but him. And Lucas knows why.

So Lucas scowls in the corner looking over at Eliott, alone in his severe dislike of him when Eliott starts doing the thing that annoys Lucas the most. He’s there, in the middle of the party, and he’s touching  _ everyone _ . Lucas doesn’t know how one person can be so tactile. Truly, it’s incredible to see Eliott when he’s  _ not  _ touching someone. 

It’s shaking hands, an arm thrown around a neck, cheeks brushing as he kisses people hello, restless fingers drifting down arms and brushing shoulders and reaching for hands. Lucas  _ hates _ it. 

This, he thinks, is the worst thing about Eliott. That he touches people with such a careless disregard for the consequences. That he cares more about finding his soulmate than who it actually is. Lucas doesn’t think he’ll ever understand. 

And it would have been better, really, if this was all it was. Lucas, leaning against a wall in the back corner of the room, noticing Eliott, getting irritated, and then moving on. He prefers it this way, without confrontation. He can sulk in his dislike from afar. 

But then it’s like Eliott can hear his thoughts and he looks up from across the room only for his eyes to meet Lucas’, his mouth parting in annoyance as he sees Lucas looking back at him.

Lucas really doesn’t want to engage. In fact, everything in his body is screaming for him to run, to take off and avoid what he knows will never turn out well. But then Idriss is following Eliott’s line of vision, noticing Lucas and bringing his had up to wave him over. And Idriss, well he’s Lucas’ friend, and Lucas can’t give Eliott the satisfaction of keeping him away. So Lucas goes over.

He picks his way gently through the crowd, pulling his hood closer around his face and balling the ends of his sleeves in the palms of his hands. And then he’s standing next to Idriss and Eliott. 

“Lucas!” Idriss yells as soon as Lucas gets close enough. He’s drunk, that much Lucas can tell, but Idriss is always a nice drunk, sweet and protective instead of annoying. “How  _ are  _ you, man?”

“I’m good, Idriss,” Lucas replies. He’s not sure Idriss will remember this conversation in the morning. “How are you?”

“Oh I’m great,” Idriss laughs, swaying slightly. “There’s a party and there’s beer and I get to hang out with two of my favorite people and–” He pauses, looking between Eliott and Lucas standing on either side of him. “Oh shit,” he says, leaning over to whisper in Lucas’ ear. “I forgot that you don’t like each other.”

Lucas bites the inside of his cheek, feeling his face flush at Idriss’ candid words. He doesn’t look at Eliott. He can’t bring himself to. “It’s fine, Idriss,” he says. “It’s fine.”

Idriss looks like he wants to say something else, but then Sofiane comes up behind them and taps Idriss on the shoulder, greeting him and then turning to hug Eliott too. When he turns towards Lucas though, Lucas notices that Sofiane makes no attempt to touch him. His heart warms a little.

“Hey Lucas,” he says.

“Hey Sofiane.” Lucas replies. His eyes catch for a moment on the swirling red handprint on his upper arm, partly covered by the sleeve of his t-shirt – the mark Imane gave him. And it’s beautiful, really, and a little mesmerizing. Lucas has to tear his eyes away.

When Lucas looks back at Sofiane’s face, he notices the way he’s looking between Eliott and Lucas, as if waiting for the bubble to burst. But noticing that they seem to be civil, Sofiane lets Idriss pull him around to look at some girl he’s been wanting to talk to all night, leaving Eliott and Lucas standing alone together.

“Surprised to see you here,” Eliott says. “Doesn’t really seem like something you’d be into.”

And it’s annoying, how deep those words cut. Another reminder that Lucas doesn’t fit in. “Oh fuck off, Eliott.”

Eliott raises his eyebrows slightly, but keeps his mouth closed, rocking back on his heels and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Are you always this mean to people?” he asks after a moment. “Or is it just reserved for me?”

“Does it matter?” Lucas snaps back. 

Eliott smirks at him, actually smirks. Lucas feels his blood boil. “I guess not.” He shifts then from one foot to another, looking like he’s about to say something but can’t find the words.

“What do you want, Eliott?” Lucas asks, rolling his eyes.

“I’m just trying to make conversation.”

Lucas looks over at him, narrowing his eyes. “Well you’re not very good at it.”

Eliott laughs a little and just shrugs. “My apologies.” He pauses, biting his lip. “Lucas?”

Lucas lets out an exasperated sigh. “What, Eliott?”

“Why are you here?” Eliott asks.

“At this party?” Lucas asks and Eliott nods. “Just trying to have fun. Oh, and there were literally no other options.”

Eliott shakes his head. “Ah, I see.”

“Why are you here?” Lucas throws back. “Or wait, let me guess. You’re here to find your  _ soulmate _ .”

Eliott stops laughing and his face darkens a bit. “Not really the point,” he says, “but I wouldn’t say no if it happens.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

They stand in silence for another moment and Lucas turns away, looking out over the party trying to figure out how to extract himself from the situation when Eliott speaks up.

“Lucas?”

“What, Eliott?”

Eliott clenches his jaw and then meets Lucas’ eyes again, shaking his head slightly. “I like your hoodie,” he says and then he turns, walking into the crowd and getting swallowed up without so much as another glance towards Lucas. 

Lucas is left standing there with what he’s sure is a slightly dumb expression on his face and then the anger wells up in him because  _ how dare he?  _ Truly what was this guy’s problem with him? They had talked for barely a minute, and Lucas is so worked up he could scream. He hates that Eliott has that control over him.

His eyes are trained on the spot that Eliott just occupied and he takes another swig of his beer.

***

Later, when Lucas lies in bed, slightly tipsy off the drinks at the party, though nowhere near how drunk Yann had been, he finds himself thinking about his and Eliott’s conversation. 

Because the thing is, when Eliott looked him up and down, when Eliott said he liked Lucas’ hoodie, it didn’t sound insincere, it didn’t land with the same biting intent that their conversations usually have. Lucas doesn’t really know what to make of it. It’s possible that Eliott is softening, but it seems unlikely, knowing how their interactions usually go. 

Lucas thinks instead that it’s more likely Eliott meant it as a jab but wanted to throw Lucas off, wanted to get in the last word, so he played nice. That, that is the Eliott Lucas is used to. 

Lucas flops on his side in bed, his t-shirt shifting annoyingly around his back so he has to lift his body to adjust it. He huffs, looking at his clock and noting the late hour and how Eliott is managing to mess with his life once again. Of course. 

He flops onto his stomach and pulls his covers up past his ears where he settles into the cocoon the blanket forms around him, breathing slowly, reveling in the way the soft fabric feels against the bare skin of his arms, his legs, his chest. He loves nights because of this, the way he can strip down, bare his skin, have it mean nothing.

And, as it happens on nights like this, Lucas finds himself thinking about a universe where he wouldn’t have to worry about people touching him, where he could reach out and take hold of a stranger’s hand and it wouldn’t have to mean anything more than that. It could, but it wouldn’t have to.

Maybe he’d be nicer, Lucas thinks, or maybe he’d have more friends. And maybe there wouldn’t be people like Eliott Demaury, who make him feel bad for not wanting any of it. It’s just that when Lucas thinks about this universe without soulmates, it just seems easier, like he’d be able to breathe a little easier.

And normally, thoughts like this, of an imagined universe where Lucas feels more at home, are enough to lull him to sleep, but tonight Lucas finds himself turning his conversation with Eliott over and over in his mind. He can’t focus on anything else as the minutes tick by. So instead, Lucas thinks about all the ways he’s learned to trick himself into falling asleep – deep breaths and counting sheep and focusing on every muscle in his body until his brains tires from the focus.

The last one is his favorite, something his mother taught him right after his father left the first time.

“Imagine there’s a ball of light in your chest,” she said to him, brushing strands of hair away from his face. “Now, with each breath, send that light to every part of your body. Start with your toes, and then the balls of your feet, and then your ankles and work your way up until you reach the top of your head.”

Lucas has never made it past his shoulders.

So tonight, that’s what Lucas turns to to calm his anxious thoughts, his spiraling worry about not being enough, not fitting into the universe this version of himself exists in.

And it’s all going well, it really is, until he twitches and his brain strays for a second, just a second and Eliott’s face pops into his head. The silvery light retracts from where he’s sent it in his body and he feels it slam back into his chest. And it aches.

Eliott  _ fucking _ Demaury.

The thing is, objectively, Eliott has a nice face. And if his personality wasn’t so terrible, Lucas wouldn’t mind his face popping into his brain every once in a while. But now, as he’s laying here, trying desperately to fall asleep as the early mornings hours tick on and on, he would like if he didn’t have to think about Eliott for once.

The thing is also, it wasn’t always like this. In fact, there was a time when Lucas was excited about the prospect of Eliott transferring universities and moving back to Paris. He’d heard so much about him from Imane and Idriss and Idriss had kept talking about how well they would get along. And it didn’t hurt when Lucas finally saw a picture of him and he looked like  _ that,  _ with bright eyes and a kind smile and hair that seemed to shine gold in the sun.

But then he’d actually met him.

The problem was less with Eliott and more with his attitude. Sure, Lucas knew there were people like him, obsessed with finding their soulmate, convinced that you weren’t whole unless you’d found a match, the kind of people who would set up speed-dating but for soulmates, entering a room and shaking hands with everyone in sight just to weed people out. But he’d never actually met someone like that.

Ironically (or maybe just the universe playing tricks on him), they’d met at Sofiane and Imane’s soulmate party, the kind of event that’s held when you finally find your soulmate to celebrate the match.

It had been a warm evening for the beginning of summer and had annoyingly started raining halfway into Lucas’ walk there, leaving him damp by the time he got to the party. Not only that, but the warmth had made Lucas start to sweat in his clothes, making him feel sticky and overwhelmed. But he was used to it, he had to be. He almost never wore anything without long sleeves.

Lucas had been slightly more relaxed than normal because there wouldn’t be as many strangers at this party, as many people that he could accidentally touch. As far as he knew, most of the people there already knew to avoid touching him and Yann would be there, which always made him feel a bit better.

Lucas had noticed Eliott the minute he had walked into the room, all messy hair and warm smiles and gentle laughter. But then Lucas had watched, horrified, as Eliott began to shake everyone’s hand, whispering something that made everyone around him laugh as he kept touching and touching and touching.

Lucas had seen the way Eliott took ownership of the space around him, inviting people to get closer, soul bared and hand extended, using every opportunity to touch people that he could find.

It was like Eliott was a hurricane, enveloping everything around him, picking it up, disrupting the world, leaving chaos behind in his wake.

And Lucas was an island – lonely, forgotten, small, bracing himself for impact.

It’s like this then when Lucas had finally met Eliott. And maybe it should have been more evident it wouldn’t turn out well.

Lucas had watched as Eliott finally shrugged off his jacket and looked around, presumably to try and find someone else he knew. He had smiled when he found Idriss, walking up to him, their hands meeting as they embraced in a one-armed hug. 

“Eliott!” Idriss said. “It’s good to see you.”

Lucas had lingered behind Idriss, clasping his drink between his hands, eyes darting between the floor and the two boys in front of him. Idriss and Eliott chatted for a moment and then Idriss turned around, noticing Lucas standing there and smiled.

“Ah, Lucas, come here,” Idriss said, nodding his head, beckoning him over. Lucas smiled back and feet slightly dragging, heart beating slightly rapidly in his chest at the prospect of  _ finally _ meeting Eliott, went over to join them. Idriss turned back to Eliott. “_T_ _ his _ is Lucas,” he said, and there was something there in the way he looked at Eliott. “And Lucas, this is Eliott. Imane and I have been wanting you two to meet forever.”

Lucas had let himself smile at Eliott, meeting his eyes and finding something gray and green and flecked with gold all at once. “Hi,” he said, somewhat quietly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Eliott had smiled back, a little pink appearing on the tops of his cheeks. “I’ve heard a lot about you too,” he said. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” And then, well Lucas should have expected it really, Eliott had extended his hand towards Lucas.

Lucas flinched slightly at the motion and then just stared at Eliott’s hand, his skin, just there in front of him. He squeezed his cup tighter with both his hands. 

He was just about to launch into the always uncomfortable speech about how he doesn’t touch people he doesn’t know when Idriss coughed slightly, looking at Eliott, catching his attention. And then Eliott’s eyes widened slightly, and he snatched his hand back.

“Shit,” Eliott said, putting both his hands into his pockets. “I forgot.”

And so it was pretty clear that Idriss had warned Eliott beforehand about Lucas’ weird thing with touch. And there’s a part of Lucas that had warmed with the idea that Idriss was looking out for him, trying to make sure Lucas was comfortable.

But there was another part of Lucas that started to take over as the familiar sensation of embarrassment spread through his body. He hated that his friends had to take care of him, hated that every time he met someone new he was made to feel like an outsider. 

And suddenly Lucas hated that Eliott’s default was touch, like they didn’t live in a world where touch meant everything.

Idriss had coughed again and Lucas realized he was still looking towards the ground, avoiding Idriss and Eliott’s eyes. So he took a deep breath and looked up at them, looked up at Eliott trying to see if something had changed there on his face.

And it hadn’t, not really, except that something too close to pity for Lucas’ liking flashed for a moment, and then went. And Lucas should have let it go, really, and maybe it was the combination of his clothing being damp and the adrenaline pumping in his veins, but a gentle anger gripped his chest. He didn’t need Eliott’s pity.

“So, uh, you go to university with Idriss and Imane, right?” Eliott asked and Lucas could tell he was trying to get past the awkward moment, so he played along.

“Yeah,” Lucas said, his voice calm. “You just transferred right? Or something?”

“Something like that.” Eliott chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “I had to take last semester off,” he said, head ducking down. “And just decided it'd be better to move back to finish.”

Lucas hadn’t known what to say, so he just nodded.

“But we’re really excited to have you back,” Idriss said then, his voice light. He clapped a hand on Eliott’s shoulder. “I missed having you around.”

“Thanks.” Eliott smiled. “I missed you guys.”

There was a lull in the conversation and suddenly Sofiane was calling for Idriss to come and help him with something. Idriss had looked between the two of them and lingered on Eliott, smirking at him.

“You should probably go check that everything’s okay,” Eliott said.

Idriss looked over his shoulder to find Sofiane waving at him, a somewhat panicked expression on his face. “Yeah, I’m just gonna–” Idriss pointed to Sofiane. “Have fun, you two.”

And then he was gone, leaving Lucas and Eliott alone. Eliott smiled at him.

“So what are you studying–” Eliott started to say, keeping up their stilted conversation. But Lucas had interrupted him.

“Why do you do that?” Lucas asked.

“Do what?”

“Shake everyone’s hands when you meet them,” Lucas replied, staring at Eliott, challenging him. “I watched you come in. It’s like you’re trying to get everyone to touch you.”

Eliott had just stared at him for a second, and then he let out a little laugh, shrugging his shoulders and rocking back on his heels. “Oh, uh, no one’s ever noticed that before.”

Lucas had fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I did.”

“It’s just a thing I do,” Eliott explained, except it wasn’t really an explanation.

“A thing you do,” Lucas said.

“Well yeah. I’m just curious.” Lucas watched as Eliott blushed. “It’s just like, you never know when you’re going to meet your soulmate, right? I just don’t want to miss them.”

This time Lucas did roll his eyes.

“But that’s just me,” Eliott said and his voice was quiet, searching Lucas’ face.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of rude?” Lucas’ voice had been sharper than he meant it to be. “Pressuring people like that?”

Eliott had inhaled sharply, his face falling. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was pressuring you, Lucas,” Eliott said and there it was again, the pity. “Idriss told me that you...well I just forgot.”

By that point Lucas had been even more irritated because Eliott wasn’t understanding his point. 

“I’m not talking about me,” Lucas said, gesturing out around the room at the other people milling around. “I’m just saying, in general, that maybe there’s people who don’t want to touch you, you know? Makes it kind of awkward when you’re always trying to shake their hands, don’t you think?”

Eliott had scoffed then. “I’d never  _ make _ anyone shake my hand, Lucas. And honestly, most people I’ve met don’t really care.” Eliott had pulled his hands out of his pockets and he crossed his arms close to his chest. “It’s the world we live in Lucas – sometimes you shake someone’s hand and they happen to be your soulmate. It happens.”

And there, with the slight fire in his voice, the way Eliott began to lecture him about the kind of world they live in (which, yes he was  _ aware _ thank you very much), Lucas’ annoyance grew. Lucas wasn’t stupid and he hated being spoken to like he was.

“Obviously,” Lucas snapped back. “But maybe some people don’t want it to happen like that.” He paused. “Or at all.”

It was Eliott’s turn to roll his eyes. ‘Well that’s pretty sad, don’t you think?”

The words had hit Lucas like a slap to the face. He got it, he was pathetic. He didn’t need Eliott to rub it in. He had bitten back before he could stop himself.

“Well at least I’m not obsessed with finding my soulmate,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he stared at Eliott. “What’s wrong with you? What’s so messed up that you feel like you need your soulmate to make it all better?”

That had landed. Maybe harder than Lucas had meant it to, because he watched as Eliott’s face fell, as his irritation replaced by something else – sadness maybe – watched as his shoulders collapsed, as his eyes dropped to the floor.

“Whatever, Lucas,” Eliott had said then, his voice sounding hollow, like the wind had been knocked out of him. Lucas hadn’t really understood how they ended up here. “I’m going to go.”

He hadn’t looked at Lucas as he walked past him, pushing through the crowd and making his way to where Idriss and Sofiane had disappeared into the kitchen. Eliott had left Lucas slightly confused and also angry, because no, Eliott didn't get to be upset when he’s the one who hurt Lucas. 

He didn’t speak to Eliott again for the rest of the night.

After that, their interactions are always tense – exactly like they had been tonight at the party. Lucas rolls over onto his stomach in bed and finds himself going over ever interaction he’s ever had with Eliott. He hates how much it affects him, what Eliott thinks about him.

And Lucas hates how much it bothers him that other people seem to like Eliott so much. That first altercation had quickly spread amongst their friends, the groups intertwined in more ways than Lucas cared to think about. The details had been missing, but by the end of the week all of Lucas’ friends seemed to know that something had happened and Lucas and Eliott didn’t like each other and that it had something to do with soulmates.

He wishes they would let it go.

Lucas tries to push Eliott out of his mind, starting to be a little desperate for sleep. He goes back to focusing on the silver light in his chest, focusing on his breaths and spreading it through his body, feeling himself sink into the mattress.

It takes a little longer than normal, but eventually it starts to work and Lucas feels the familiar sense of warmth wash over him as he pulls his duvet tighter around his chin. 

He’s sinking, he’s sinking, but it’s not scary, it’s comforting. He sees flashes of gray and green flecked with gold, messy hair.

He dreams of blue and red. Red and blue.

And there, inbetween, gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...there's a lot happening here and most of this chapter had to be set-up and world building, but hopefully it all makes sense. this fic has been meticulously outlined and I have several scenes written for each chapter - it's just a matter of stringing them all together now, so stay tuned for updates!
> 
> thank you so so much for reading! 💛💛💛 kudos/comments are always appreciated!
> 
> as always, you can find me on tumblr [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for a little bit of a wait. meant to post a little sooner, but this chapter was being difficult

_ Truth, like gold, is to be obtained not by its growth, but by washing away from it all that is not gold. _

_ – Leo Tolstoy _

The problem is it becomes a bit of a routine after that — falling asleep to the silver light and thoughts of Eliott. Lucas can’t shake it no matter how hard he tries, shame settled deep in his stomach, pooling there and collecting in a way that forces him to see Eliott’s furrowed brow and fallen face to watch his smile as he told him that he liked his hoodie.

In the daylight, Lucas’ normal feelings of irritation and maybe even anger sit there, bubbling close to the surface. How dare Eliott, that self-righteous jerk who has no idea what Lucas has gone through, what he’s had to face, how dare he judge him.

But at night, when the moonlight shines across his face through the crack in the curtain, the insecurity and fear press down on his chest, down on his heart, and he can’t pretend it doesn’t bother him, the way he constantly made to feel like he doesn’t belong, the way he’s reminded over and over again that no one would love him unless they were told to. 

And even then, they’d probably be disappointed or realize their mistake and leave.

And on nights like these when his brain is loud and won’t let him get to sleep it’s like Eliott becomes the face of all his insecurities, a foil to the truths he holds dear. He’s open while Lucas is closed. He looks for his soulmate while Lucas runs. He’s loud and warm and inviting and wears a sunshine smile when he meets strangers and Lucas is cold and closed off and has a tendency to isolate, refuse to meet anyone new.

It’s exhausting, having to compete with someone who embodies everything you wish you were. 

(And even if it’s not a formal competition, something about Eliott makes it feel like one. Something about Eliott makes Lucas feel like he has something to prove.)

So Lucas lays awake, he thinks of that silver light, he tries to calm the rapid beating in his chest that had been quiet for so long until the exhaustion meets with the anxiety and sleep overtakes him for a blissful hour or two. And he tries to think of ways to stay away from Eliott and everything he reminds Lucas he’s missing.

***

The universe, apparently, has a sick sense of humor.

“Please don’t hate me,” Imane says a few days later as they sit in a coffee shop, their notes spread out in front of them in an elaborate attempt to see all the material at once.

Lucas raises an eyebrow at her as he takes a sip of his coffee, the burning liquid hitting his throat and spreading warmth deep in his chest. He needs it as Imane had made him promise to meet her early in the day and the air outside had quickly taken on the chilly habit of autumn mornings. But Lucas had always loved the cold and the way it gave him an easy excuse for his inclination towards layering. He pulls the sleeves of his hoodie down from where they’d slipped up his wrist, and sighs at Imane. “What do you want?”

It must be serious because Imane closes her textbook and crosses her arms on top of it, leaning closer to Lucas across the table. “I have a favor to ask you,” she says.

“Okay?”

Imane hums at she takes another sip of her tea. “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“Maybe not,” Lucas says, but he’s curious really, that she’s coming to _ him _ of all people for help with a favor. It’s like she knows he’d never be able to turn her down. “What is it?”

Imane takes a deep breath, but her cheeks blush slightly and she looks away like she’s slightly embarrassed. “Well it’s Sofiane’s birthday soon,” she says, “and I wanted to do something nice for him. I was wondering if you could help me.”

Lucas still momentarily, a little taken aback at the gentle tone that’s come over Imane’s words, still unused to the side of her Sofiane brings out. “Imane, asking for _ my _ help with doing something nice for her soulmate?”

“Forget it,” she huffs, rolling her eyes, but a hint of a smile plays at her lips.

Lucas lets himself enjoy Imane being flustered for once for a moment before he responds. “No, no, I’m happy to help,” he says, laughing. “I’m just surprised you’re asking me, that’s all.” Imane blushes slightly and looks down at her tea and then Lucas realizes. “How many people did you ask before me?”

Imane purses her lips and looks at him sheepishly. “A few,” she admits, and Lucas just laughs. “But Manon and Daphne are busy and I don’t trust Alexia or Emma to stay focused!” Which is, fair, Lucas thinks.

“So I’m a last resort?” Lucas responds, in mock outrage.

“Well that and...” Imane pauses and then she’s looking at him sort of guiltily. “Uh, well, Eliott is helping too.”

Lucas stills. “Ah.”

Imane must sense Lucas’ hesitation, because she starts talking quickly again. “I just need help setting up and distracting Sofiane when the time comes, you know? You won’t even have to be around Eliott that much.”

Lucas sighs. It’s not his ideal situation by any means. He’d love to not have to be around Eliott if he can help it. But it’s Imane asking and Imane’s always been there for him, even when he didn’t want her to be. He’s one of the people he trusts the most and he can tell she’s nervous about getting whatever she has planned perfect for Sofiane. So if Imane’s happiness means sucking it up and playing nice with Eliott for a few hours, Lucas can do that. He can be the bigger person for once. “No, I mean, it’s okay Imane,” he says. “It’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Lucas.” Imane smiles gratefully at him and turns to open her textbook again so they can get back to their homework. She starts writing the next line of notes when she pauses, looking up at Lucas again. “You know, I don’t really understand what happened there.”

“Nothing _ happened, _” Lucas replies, because he’s not sure he wants to explain that seeing Eliott so open and free with his touch is irritating, or that the way Eliott looks at him with silent judgement makes him feel ashamed. “We just don’t really see eye to eye.”

Imane gives him a look and Lucas knows he won’t get off that easily. “On what? I was sure you two would get along.”

Lucas takes another sip of his coffee and shrugs. “You know, I think we just have different priorities. Different things we care about.”

“Is this about soulmates?” Imane asks.

Lucas is silent. 

“So it is.” She pauses. “Did he say something to you?”

“He didn’t have to,” Lucas says. “I know what he thinks of me.”

Imane knits her eyebrows together and looks at him. “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like him.”

Lucas sighs. “Well maybe he’s not the same around me as he is around you. Can we just drop this please?”

Imane gives him another look but must see something in his face that makes her decide not to press, though Lucas can’t imagine he’ll be able to avoid this conversation forever. She sighs. “Maybe just try not to judge him so harshly, yeah?”

Lucas almost scoffs. Him? Not judge Eliott when that’s all Eliott has been doing to him? Lucas saw how Eliott had given him the once over, had made him feel bad about not wanting to touch people, had clearly thought Lucas was stupid for taking it so seriously.

And Lucas hates this – how uncomfortable, how different, Eliott can make him feel without even being there. Every time someone talks about him it’s like a reminder that he doesn’t fit in. That there are things he should want that he just doesn’t, that he’s too scared to try for. He hates that feeling.

But he also hates that it’s made Imane think like this about him. There must be some redeeming quality in Eliott if Imane is defending him. He knows the whole thing is petty, but he also knows he can’t bring himself to get over it. But, for Imane, he’ll at least pretend for a little while, until Sofiane’s party is over and he can go back to disliking Eliott in peace. Or, preferably, not thinking about him at all.

“Okay,” he says finally before looking back down at his notes. “Now did you understand chapter eight?”

***

The thing is though, it’s almost impossible for Lucas to escape him. Even when they’re not around each other, even when their friends don’t try and force them to go to the same parties, Lucas is constantly surrounded by whispers of Eliott Demaury. In the few months since Eliott arrived on campus, he’s become something of the campus golden boy – desired, loved and altogether overhyped, Lucas thinks.

It probably has something to do with the fact that Idriss and Sofiane are pretty popular around campus, and that Eliott has just randomly starting showing up with them. 

But it also _ definitely _ has something to do with Eliott’s obsession with finding his soulmate. There are whispers everywhere about it. Lucas has stumbled upon three separate groups in just the last week discussing how they could run into Eliott on campus and touch him _ just to see. _

It’s constant – the conversations Lucas hears about Eliott._Oh, he’s so pretty, he’s so nice, I heard he likes to try and find his soulmate, maybe I’ll go introduce myself and then I’ll know._

The whole thing is ridiculous.

So, of course, it doesn’t make anything better when Lucas is sitting with Yann eating lunch one day and Eliott has the audacity to walk up to him in the middle of campus.

“Incoming,” Yann whispers in Lucas’ ear and Lucas has all of two seconds before a familiar figure is standing over him.

“Eliott,” Lucas sighs without even looking up. “What do you want?”

Lucas hears a huff and turns to find Eliott rolling his eyes, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

“Look, it’s not like I wanted to come over and talk to you,” he says and then he sighs again and Lucas really has had enough of that. “But Imane needs us tomorrow night, okay? For some party stuff.”

Lucas raises his eyebrow and shakes his head just a little. But he knows Eliott notices. “Yeah, I know.” His voice comes out cold, sharp and god Lucas is glad he can see the way Eliott twitches slightly at his tone. “Why are _ you _ reminding me?”

“There’s been a change of plans. She needs us to go across the city to pick something up.” Eliott shrugs slightly and says nothing else but also makes no move to go.

Lucas grimaces – wandering around Paris with Eliott had not exactly been part of what he signed up for, but he can’t let Eliott know it bothers him. So instead Lucas just looks at him expectantly. “Is that all?”

Eliott pulls at the straps on his backpack and clenches his jaw. “Yeah, that’s all,” he says, evidently irritated with Lucas, but Lucas can’t bring himself to care. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

Eliott walks away then and Lucas turns to find Yann looking at him, his eyebrow up in a silent question.

“What?” Lucas asks, rolling his eyes.

Yann laughs a little, playing with the food in front of him. “Look, I know you don’t like him, Lucas, and even though I don’t really understand it, I’m not telling you you have to. But wouldn’t it be easier to just play nice for now? At least until the party is over?”

“I’m civil!” Lucas protests, but the look on Yann’s face tells him he could be trying harder. “Look, it’ll be fine. I’m doing this for Imane, so I’ll figure it out.”

“You better.” Yann laughs and returns to his lunch, dropping the subject for now.

***

That night Lucas heads over to Manon’s apartment. He doesn’t see her nearly as often as he should, especially since she moved across campus to try living on her own. But it’s nice sometimes to spend time with her because Lucas feels like he can just exist – there’s no pressure to be anything he’s not. It’s how it’s been since they lived together in high school, Manon feeling like family when he didn’t really have anyone else.

When he knocks on her door, Manon opens it with a wide smile on her face as she beckons him inside. Lucas kicks off his shoes and hangs his coat up before turning to her and immediately grabbing her and pulling her in for a hug.

Manon lets out a surprised squeal but then hugs him back with a fierceness that makes Lucas relax in her arms, the hug helping release the tension he’s been carrying since his run-in with Eliott.

Manon is one of the few other people in his life where Lucas knows, who Lucas can touch. The circumstances of finding out had not been great – he’d been overly drunk and both Yann and Manon had had to help carry him up the stairs to their apartment – but Lucas is grateful for it now, another person he doesn’t have to worry about. Plus, Manon, like Yann, is a good hugger. And sometimes, like today, Lucas needs it.

“Hi,” Lucas says softly. “Missed you.”

He hears Manon laugh appreciatively and hug him tighter. “I missed you too,” she says. “Want some tea?”

A few minutes later they’re curled up on Manon’s couch, steaming cups of tea in both their hands, and Manon is finishing telling him about some assignment she’s been working on for class, but the more she talks, the more Lucas suspects something is wrong. Or, maybe not wrong, but off.

Because, after all these years, Lucas knows Manon and knows her well. A few years ago, when he was more selfish, he’d been better at overlooking things until they reached a breaking point, but Manon had always been good at noticing when something was off with him. She was one of the first people he’d come out to because she’d always made him feel so comfortable and accepted despite everything.

Lucas pulls the blanket Manon keeps on the back of her couch down to cover both of them. Even for a fall day, the air has taken a cold turn, and the rain hasn’t let up for a few days, blanketing the city in a strange chilly mist. It’s the kind of cold that doesn’t really go away, one that’s been following Lucas around for a while. He’s been in Manon’s apartment for all of twenty minutes and the warmth is already coming back.

“How are you?” Lucas asks when Manon finishes her story because he’d actually like to know.

She blinks at him. “I’m good. I mean, school is good and my apartment is good and…” She trails off and looks away.

Lucas nods. “Okay, but how are _you_?”

Manon looks at him and then takes a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” It was a thing they did, since high school, and for some reason it worked well for them. It was nice to be able to break sometimes and not have to explain yourself, to have someone that could notice but would wait until you were ready. 

Manon just looks at him for a moment but then takes a deep breath and nods. “Maybe, yeah. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Lucas replies. It’s nice to not have to worry about his own problems for once.

“My mom called,” she says. “Asked me if I heard from Charles recently.”

Lucas frowns. “What the fuck, why?” Manon had broken up with Charles, an egotistical asshole in Lucas’ opinion, almost a year before. They hadn’t been soulmates, but not every couple was. With platonic soulmates, or some people never finding theirs, a lot of people ending up settling into non-soulmate relationships. 

“I guess my cousin found her soulmate, and my mom was wondering if I’d _ made any progress _ on that. And then she said maybe I should check in with Charles, see if it’s not too late to salvage that, _ just in case, _” Manon says, her voice hard.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“I mean, it’s okay, she’s never really been all that involved in my life, so it’s not like I need her approval.” She sighs, taking a sip of tea. “But I hate that soulmates are sometimes the only thing people can talk about. It’s like people are obsessed or something and I don’t get it.”

Lucas nearly laughs because _ this _ is a topic he can definitely get behind. “Oh I know.”

“What do you mean?”

Lucas shakes his head, scooting back on the couch to lean his head against the cushion. It’s been a while since they’ve talked and although Manon knows the inciting incident, she hasn’t really been tuned in to the developing drama. “Do you remember that guy, Eliott, who Imane was talking about?” Manon nods. “Well I’m supposed to work with him to help Imane, but every time we talk he’s just an asshole. And I wouldn’t care normally, but it’s just every time I’m around him, I’m reminded that I’m apparently supposed to only care about finding my soulmate. And sometimes I just don’t want to think about it, you know?”

“I get that,” Manon says sympathetically. “But I didn’t know there was more problems with Eliott. What did he do now?”

Lucas shrugs. “Well nothing bad, it’s just...I feel so inadequate around him.” And he launches into an explanation about what had happened at the party the weekend before. “It’s just like when he looked me up and down and said _ nice sweatshirt _ it just felt like him telling me that I’m pathetic.”

Manon purses her lips and then gently reaches out to touch Lucas’ arm. “Look, I know you’ve had some awkward conversations with him before, but do you think that maybe you’re reading too much into it? Maybe you make him feel uncomfortable? Or at least out of place?”

Lucas furrows his eyebrows at her because _ no, _ he had definitely not considered that. “Why would he care what I think? Everyone loves him.”

“But he hasn’t found his soulmate either right? And he’s actively searching. He probably feels pretty insecure about that too. He probably feels a lot of the same pressure you’re feeling, but he deals with it in a different way.”

“I don’t know,” Lucas says slowly. ‘You haven’t seen the way he talks to me, like he’s better than me.”

“You’re right, I haven’t.” she shrugs. “I guess I just feel sympathy for anyone who’s struggling with the soulmate stuff, you know?”

And Lucas does know. It sucks that there’s such an emphasis on finding someone – romantic or platonic, that it’s somehow seen as a mark of being better once you find it.

“Sometimes I just wish I knew,” Manon says. “Like if I’m going to have a romantic soulmate then I’d just wait for them you know? Or if I was going to have a platonic soulmate then I’d feel more comfortable dating.”

“Well aren’t you more likely to have a romantic soulmate?”

“I guess, but plenty of people have platonic ones too. I mean look at Lisa. She has a platonic soulmate and she knows and now all that pressure’s gone!”

Lucas smiles at that. Lisa had always been pretty closed off, quiet, but when she’d found Anna, she’d seemed more able to open up. It had helped her a lot actually, which Lucas guesses is the upside to believing the soulmate stuff. “Which would you rather have?”

Manon pauses a moment, considering. “I don’t care, really. One is just as important as the other. I just want _ someone _ who I know is supposed to be a part of my life. And then I get mad at myself for caring so much.”

“Oh I get that,” Lucas says, because the thing is, Lucas doesn’t _ not _want a soulmate, he just doesn’t want to find out the first time he meets them. He’s only ever admitted it to Manon, that actually he’d love to find that person, would love to feel comfortable and confident in that relationship, but he’s so scared that he’d know it only to lose it. He’s so scared of what might be, he doesn’t want to try. He’s never met anyone worth the risk.

“I’m just tired of feeling like an outsider,” Manon says, clutching her tea close to her chest. “I’m tired of feeling like something’s wrong with me. Why is it like this? That we’re made to feel broken without someone else to _ complete _ us. It sucks.”

“You should see the way people look at my mom,” Lucas says. Because his mom had her soulmate, and she doesn’t anymore. Because his mom’s soulmate gave up on her.

Manon gives him a sympathetic smile. She also, over the years, slowly found out what exactly had happened in Lucas’ life, what had made him the way he is. “I can’t imagine,” she says softly. “How is she?”

“Okay,” Lucas says. “She’s okay. And sometimes that’s all you can hope for.”

There’s something sad in Manon’s eyes when she looks at him again. “Sometimes I wish the marks didn’t exist.” She pauses. “Or at least didn’t matter as much. I mean look at us! There’s no mark, but you’re still one of the most important people in my life.”

Lucas smiles at her, reaching out and grasping one of her hands, squeezing it. “You’re one of the most important people in my life too, you know.” And she is. Lucas is forever grateful to have someone like Manon (and it also feels good that he found her without the universe’s help). “And hey even when the marks are there, they clearly don’t always mean forever,” Lucas says bitterly. 

Manon smiles sadly at him and takes a deep breath. “I wish all this worrying and struggle felt more worth it.”

“Maybe, one day, it will,” Lucas says quietly and he takes another sip of his tea.

***

When Lucas goes to meet Eliott the next day, something settles in the pit of his stomach and it makes it hard to breathe. 

If he could choose, he wouldn’t have to face Eliott, wouldn’t have to talk to him, work with him, or even acknowledge his existence. Really, that would be so much easier.

And maybe if Lucas hadn’t just had the day he had, with a campus flooded with tour groups, coffee spilled on his lecture notes, a forgotten sweater in a classroom that he’d had to go retrieve (and the close encounters he’d had to avoid), a text left unanswered on his phone, and if he hadn’t been feeling so vulnerable from his conversation with Manon the day before, all of this would have gone much more smoothly. 

But Lucas is already in a bad mood when he meets Eliott at a small store somewhere across Paris where some guy is selling an old carnival game – apparently Imane was trying to recreate some big romantic gesture Sofiane had made for her that didn’t go all that well at the time – and seeing Eliott standing there looking impatient doesn’t help.

“You’re late,” Eliott says coldly and Lucas can’t help but glare at him. 

Because yes, Lucas is aware thank you very much and if Eliott could just use his eyes he would see that Lucas is clearly disheveled from his mad rush over to the store after his disaster of a day. But Eliott is evidently refusing to cut Lucas slack, which fine, if that’s how he wants to play it.

Lucas pulls his jacket up more tightly around his neck, and pushes his hair back under the hoodie from where it’s fallen out. “Hello to you too.”

“The game is inside.”

“I figured.”

When they go inside the shop, Lucas is met with a horrifying assortment of what seems like a collection of people’s old junk. There are piles of crap everywhere, blocking most of the shop’s floors, doorways and even windows, preventing most of the sunlight from coming in. It’s dingy and dusty and frankly, Lucas is not a fan.

All the sudden from behind one of the stacks of stuff a man emerges, fixing his eyes on both the boys and looking them up and down. “Hello,” he says. “Are you here for the carnival game?”

Lucas nods. “Yes that would be us.”

And really, Lucas should have let Eliott speak, should have let Eliott take the lead because when the words leave his mouth, the man seems to take it as a sign that he’s in charge and he turns towards him.

“Great, it’s nice to meet you,” the man says and then (because of course he does) he extends his hand out towards Lucas. The familiar sudden tightness in his chest takes over and Lucas feels himself panicking, trying to figure out the best way to get out of this situation without having to explain his personal philosophy to a complete stranger. He’s normally better at this, cleverly manuevering away from contact without most people even noticing. After all, he’s had years to practice. But Eliott’s distracted him again, and threw him off, which is why he isn’t prepared for the man to reach out to him.

Lucas is just starting to open his mouth to explain knowing that Eliott, with all his charm and gentle grace, has watched it all unfold with wide eyes. But suddenly Eliott is there, and he manages to intercept the handshake before Lucas even moves a muscle. 

And for some reason, even though Lucas should be grateful, it infuriates him. 

Eliott continues chatting with the man as they collect the pieces of the game and pay for it, while Lucas stews in his growing annoyance, his silence an indicator of the pressure building beneath the surface.

When they finally get outside and make their way over to the bus to head back towards wherever Imane is, Eliott is looking at him with the same look that always makes Lucas wants to disappear. And when Eliott speaks his voice is gentle and soft like he’s speaking to a wounded animal that’s he scared will take off if he’s not careful. “Lucas are you okay?”

And that carefulness, the way Eliott is treating him with kid gloves and pity he never asked for tips Lucas over the edge. “What the fuck is your problem?” Lucas snaps.

“What?” Eliott looks utterly bewildered. “Lucas, what are you talk–”

“God, I don’t need your help,” Lucas nearly shouts, his heart beating too fast, blood rushing in his ears and he just feels so fucking ashamed that Eliott thinks he needs protecting. “I don’t need you to swoop in a save me, Eliott.”

Eliott’s jaw drops. “Are you seriously mad at me right now? For what? Shaking some guy’s hand so you didn’t have to?”

Lucas is fuming and Eliott seems like he’s close to catching up, rage bursting across his face in racing lines. It looks foreign there, and Lucas realizes he’s never actually seen Eliott mad – it doesn’t suit him.

“Newsflash Lucas, but it wasn’t about you. I was just trying to be a nice fucking person, which you seem to have trouble with apparently.”

Lucas rolls his eyes and can’t supress a groan of annoyance. “Oh fuck off, honestly. You don’t think I don’t notice how you look at me? How you judge me thinking that you’re better than me because you’re going to find your soulmate and I’m not?” Lucas looks away. “I know you think I’m pathetic.”

Eliott sputters. “What?” His voice is quieter. “I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me, please Eliott, what do you think of me?”

Eliott shakes his head like he’s confused but the anger is still there, in his brows and in the way he’s set his jaw. “You know it was never about you not touching people, Lucas,” he says. “It’s about you being a judgemental asshole who can’t stand seeing people actually go after what they want. I think you’re terrified of people letting you down so you never let anyone in, and you refuse to admit when you’re wrong so you cling to whatever truth you’ve told yourself even if that illusion starts to crumble.”

Lucas mouth drops open and he just stares at Eliott with wide eyes. “You act like you know me so well, but you know nothing – _nothing_– about me or my life.”

“Oh and you know me and my life?” Eliott bites back.

“Yes, because I’ve seen it before,” Lucas says. “Do you know what you are Eliott?”

“I’m sure you’re planning on telling me.”

“You’re a pretentious entitled prick who gets everything he wants without working for _ any _of it.”

“That’s your problem with me? You think I get everything I want?”

Lucas scoffs. “I think you’ve never had to sit on the outside looking in. You’re one of those people no one has to think twice about loving, someone who has never had to actually struggle for anything,” he insists. “That’s the soulmate thing right? You’re infuriated because this is taking longer than things normally take. You’re convinced you deserve it more than anyone else. Well guess what Eliott, you’re not that special.”

There’s silence for a moment as Eliott just stares at him, something changing in his eyes, in his face as it contorts and falls. He shifts his gaze to the ground and clenches his jaw, his face shifting with the movement.

Eliott sighs, not looking at Lucas, but the anger that had covered his face before is noticeably absent. “You know, Lucas, no one deserves to feel bad for the choices they make for themselves.”

Lucas is not prepared for those words and for the raw honesty with which Eliott delivers them. Because the thing is, he agrees. That’s been his argument all along. But he’s in this now, deeply anchored in his anger and comfortable there, and he can’t think of anything else to say. Because what is he supposed to say to that. Instead he falls back on his other comfortable vice – avoidance. “Just go, Eliott.”

Eliott stays where he stands. “I promised Imane I’d get this back to her.”

“I’ll do it. I just don’t want to be around you right now.”

“Funny, I feel the same way,” Eliott says under his breath. But then he turns and starts to walk away, and Lucas isn’t sure where he’s going, he only knows that he’s grateful Eliott is leaving. A little down the road Eliott turns, just for a moment. “For the record, I was just trying to be nice. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

And maybe, somewhere, in Lucas’ heart of hearts, he knows that. He knows that he let his misplaced anger hit Eliott full force again. But there’s something about Eliott that draws on that part of himself, makes it hard to focus on anything else. 

And anyway, Eliott doing one nice thing doesn’t change anything. It can’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, it's gonna change things
> 
> i'm on tumblr [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm very excited about this chapter because it has one of my favorite scenes i've written for this fic so far! hope you enjoy!!

_ “But you’ll make dust from gold.” _

_ – From Gold (Novo Amor) _

Lucas taps his finger against the side of his mug in a restless pattern – one, two, three, one, two, three. There’s something swirling deep in his chest, making it a little harder to breathe, pangs that come to life every time he looks at his phone.

Because sitting there waiting for him are texts unanswered. One, specifically, from Imane that has had Lucas feigning sleep in favor of responding. 

**Imane (09:23)**

_ What did you do? _

Lucas huffs as stares down at the message again, flinching as he recalls the night before: Eliott’s hurt eyes and the ragged edge to his voice, its sharp tone a hidden plea to be left alone without having to say the words.

Lucas groans, shifting on his chair where he’s sitting at the table nursing his coffee. Yann glances over his shoulder at the noise from where he’s standing at the stove making them eggs.

“You okay bro?” Yann asks.

Lucas runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, just something with Imane.”

Yann lifts an eyebrow and turns back to the pan. He’s quiet for a moment, testing, but Lucas can tell there’s more he wants to say. “Are you sure something with Imane isn’t code for something with Eliott?”

Lucas rolls his eyes to hide the thread of panic creeping in at Yann reading him so clearly. “We’ll see,” he says, typing out a response on his phone.

**Lucas (12:07)**

_ what do you mean? _

He doesn’t have to wait long.

**Imane (12:08)**

_ With Eliott. _

_ He told me he doesn’t think he can help anymore. _

_ Says he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. _

And well _ fuck _ . So maybe it had all been worse than Lucas had thought. Maybe he’d taken it too far. He’d tried to push it down all night, tried to ignore it as Imane had taken the game from him, looking him over and asking him _ , Where’s Eliott? _

_ He had to leave _, Lucas had responded, but Imane had kept looking at him like she knew he was holding back the full story, like she knew he’d done something to mess it up. And here was her confirmation.

Lucas leans back in his chair, resting his phone screen-down on the table as he breathes in deep, trying to settle whatever is churning in his stomach, flipping over like he’s been out at sea. The panic digs in deeper because he knows when Imane finds out, she’ll be angry with him (and Lucas has never been good with people being angry with him).

He hates that his friends are going to be angry with him. He hates the way anticipating their anger makes him feel. And he hates that no matter how much he wants to hate Eliott right now for telling Imane, he can’t. He hates that this time, he knows this is his fault, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I may have messed up,” Lucas says to Yann’s back, cringing as Yann takes the pan off the heat, putting the eggs on plates for the two of them.

“How so?” Yann asks, bringing the food over to the table and sitting down across from Lucas.

Lucas looks down at his food, pushing the eggs around the plate with his fork. “I lost my temper with Eliott and now he doesn’t want to help Imane anymore.” He looks up to find Yann looking back at him.

“And it’s your fault?”

Lucas nods a little hesitantly and then tells Yann what exactly had gone on the night before, letting the words bleed out of him in the way they’re always aching to. When he finishes, Yann nods and takes a big bite of his eggs, chewing slowly. “Well you know what you have to do, right?”

Lucas shakes his head, but he does know, he just wants to hear Yann say it. 

“You have to apologize.”

And Lucas knows, he really does, it’s just that he’s never been particularly good at apologies and he hates that he now owes _ Eliott Demaury _one. But he also knows it’s necessary if he wants Imane to not be angry with him. And it’s necessary if Lucas doesn’t want to carry around this weight.

It had surprised Lucas how quickly the guilt had already settled into the familiar space in his chest, making it harder to breathe, a throbbing ache that doesn’t often go away. He hates that this feeling is so familiar – that guilt, like fear, has become so much a part of his daily routine that he hardly notices when it comes back again. Perhaps it’s because it rarely leaves. 

And though the feeling is familiar, this time the culprit isn’t. Which leaves this pressure tinged slightly with something foreign, something new, because it had been so easy to hate Eliott Demaury from afar, to constantly dwell on the way he strode through life with ease – a golden boy in his own right who could never seem to do wrong. And Lucas had become convinced he couldn’t possibly be _ actually _ nice too. It all had to be a part of the elaborate facade he’d created.

And yet, Eliott’s words come back to Lucas again, replaying in his mind as they had on the verge of sleep the night before. _ No one deserves to feel bad for the choices they make for themselves _ . It was an out of character moment for the Eliott Lucas had constructed in his head. It had set something off in Lucas, like a swift punch to the gut, knocking the air out of him, because _ yes, that’s what Lucas has been trying to say. _

But there’s still something in Eliott that Lucas can’t trust. It’s just the way Eliott looks at him, the way he speaks to him with something akin to pity or judgement that tends to set Lucas off. He knows he’s never been good at people treating him differently. He’s always wished he could be perfectly normal – so normal, in fact, that he could disappear into the background without people noticing. It’d be nice, sometimes, to blend in, to not have to deal with the looks and the whispers.

It’s probably why he’d reacted so fiercely to Eliott’s help. He’d always had trouble accepting help, always hated the way it made him feel singled out and incapable, a testament to all the ways he’d failed at doing it on his own.

And it’s also that Lucas isn’t used to people trying to make things easier for him. In his experience, people tend to make things harder, figuring out how to push him, break him, take everything that made it hurt and pull it out piece by piece to be examined in the light of day. 

But this time it was Lucas who’d pushed too far, who’d taken something out on Eliott that wasn’t his fault, who pulled the rift apart from where it had only been a tear and made it into something of a chasm. 

And no one deserves that – not even Eliott. Lucas doesn’t have to be his friend, hell he doesn’t even have to like him, but he’d never want anyone to treat him the way he treated Eliott last night. And that’s on him, no matter what shit he has going on.

“You’re right,” Lucas sighs, looking at Yann. “I do need to apologize.”

He picks up his phone again, typing out a reply to Imane.

**Lucas (12:26)**

_ I’ll fix it. _

***

The problem is, Lucas isn’t quite sure how to fix it. He doesn’t have Eliott’s number, and even though it could definitely get it from Imane, it feels a little insincere. 

It’s new territory for Lucas, being so fully in the wrong that it’s up to him to make it right. He’s so used to only interacting with the people who know him, or giving strangers such a wide berth there would never be any opportunity for this kind of miscommunication. 

It’s a foreign virus wreaking havoc on his body, twisting his gut painfully every time he thinks about what he has to do.

Lucas hates being wrong. And he hates it’s Eliott he’s wronged.

But there’s determination brewing now, a constantly beating reminder of what he’s set out to do, if only he can find the right moment. His mind weaves stories of how he hopes he’ll face Eliott again if only to make the experience a little smoother, a little softer. 

But as with most things, it never goes as planned.

When Lucas finally sees Eliott again, it’s almost four days after he’d exploded at him at the bus stop, the bitter taste of the words he’d spat almost faded. 

Lucas sees Eliott from across the open expanse of grass in the middle of campus. Normally, there’d be students gathered all across it, likely blocking Lucas’ view, but autumn has descended rather quickly and with the clouds blocking out the mid-afternoon sun, campus has become too cold to spend a lot of time outdoors.

So Lucas sees him. He’s surprised really, at how quickly he notices Eliott, but the bright, wild hair and the camel jacket give him away much too easily and his guilt has been acting like a radar for Eliott anyway.

And maybe it’s that this moment, the thought of talking to Eliott about what happened has been building up in Lucas’ mind to the point it’s nearly the only thing he can think about that propels him across the grass towards Eliott before his mind can catch up and register what he’s doing. 

Because suddenly Lucas is standing there behind Eliott, who is putting something in his backpack and zipping it back up again, a bundle of nerves and hesitant remorse, and he’s willing himself to speak, to find the words he’d spent so long practicing and let them out.

“Hey.” It’s louder than he meant for it to be and Eliott jumps, twisting behind him to see who is talking to him.

When he sees Lucas, Eliott ‘s face hardens and he abruptly stands, throwing his bag over one shoulder.

It’s like Eliott is just looking right through him. His eyes land on Lucas’ face but they pass right over, like there’s nothing there to see. Lucas has been ignored before, sure, but nothing like this – nothing like the blatant way Eliott is avoiding even having to acknowledge him at all. 

“Eliott, wait–” Lucas calls out, reaching for the sleeve of Eliott’s jacket without even thinking about it, bare fingers brushing the rough fabric as Eliott spins slightly to look at him. “Can we talk?” Lucas pauses, searching Eliott’s face. He finds nothing there but a clenched jaw and the ghost of something in his eyes. “Please?”

Eliott huffs and for a moment Lucas thinks that maybe he’ll hear him out. Instead Eliott rolls his eyes before turning on his heel and striding out of the building, saying nothing to Lucas at all.

***

That night, as Lucas tosses restlessly from side to side, all he can see is the tension in Eliott’s shoulders and the way he’d brushed Lucas off like he couldn’t care less what he had to say. A remnant, perhaps, of Eliott’s promise the last time they spoke.

Lucas doesn’t understand why it bothers him so much.

Lucas knows he can be harsh, that’s just part of who he is, but he’s never felt so badly about it before, never carried it with this much guilt. It’s necessary – the wall. It keeps him safe and keeps people away. It’s easier, it’s always been easier. 

But tonight, even when he tries to use his mother’s trick, swirling silver in his limbs, Eliott’s face won’t leave his head. He flops to his other side – again – and reaches for his phone, hoping some mindless scrolling might distract him enough to let his fatigue take over.

But the minute he picks up the phone, the minute he sees the screen, he realizes what a bad idea that actually was, because now he knows he’s not sleeping tonight. Again.

He reads the message once, twice, and then the familiar wave of anger washes over him, coupled with the tears pricking at the corners of his tired eyes, and god he could really use one day without crying.

He grabs one of his pillows, pulling it over his face as he fights the urge to scream. But in the blackness, the texts shine bright in his mind, like they were seared there by an iron brand.

**Dad (00:13)**

_ Did you get my message? _

_ Please call me Lucas. We need to talk about this. _

***

In the morning, with reddened eyes and a sleep-deprived brain, Lucas pulls himself from bed with a renewed sense of determination to fix the one thing he feels like he might have control over.

He stumbles out of bed to the bathroom, splashing water on his face like it might make up for the few hours he managed to sleep the night before. Slipping on a pair of jeans that he’d found crumpled in a pile at the end of his bed and grabbing his favorite black hoodie, pulling the sleeves low and pulling up the hood, Lucas gathers his things to head to campus. 

Yann had left earlier that morning for his shift at the coffee shop, which meant that Lucas would swing by there first to try and imbibe some caffeine to hopefully help his brain stay connected to his mouth, and then he’d go and look for Eliott.

Enough was enough. He would apologize and make sure Eliott knew he meant it. It was for Eliott to decide if he’d accept it.

But, as with all best laid plans, the universe, who’d never really been a friend to Lucas as it was, couldn’t even let him have this. Because when Lucas enters the coffee shop, the first thing he notices is the longer-than-usual line. The second, is Eliott.

He’s sitting in the corner, the spot Lucas usually takes if he’s studying in the shop, his head bent low over his laptop as he types furiously. And just like that all the determination that Lucas had gotten out of bed with seeps out of him with surprising efficiency. Lucas turns his body away as he stands in line, hoping that Eliott won’t notice him until he’s had a chance to will back his courage.

Luckily for him, Eliott seems relatively engrossed in whatever he’s working on and doesn’t pick up his head once as Lucas moves up in line. When Lucas finally gets to the front, Yann gives him a big smile, despite the early hour and busy morning rush.

“Lucas, hey!”

“Shh,” Lucas whispers, nodding his head in Eliott’s direction. Yann looks over his shoulder, noticing Eliott and his eyes widen, but he nods.

“What can I get you?” he asks. “Wait, let me guess, black coffee?”

“Oh, Yann, you know me so well.”

It’s Yann’s turn to subtly nod, back towards the staff entrance and Lucas catches sight of a man he only knows as _ the manager from hell _, which Lucas knows means he’ll have to pay for his coffee this morning. He shrugs and Yann smiles apologetically.

“That all?” Yann asks.

Lucas is about to say yes when he glances over at Eliott’s table again and has an idea. “Do you happen to know what Eliott’s drinking?”

Yann smirks at him but nods and then Lucas is paying for the drinks and grabbing them – the coffee for him and _ a tea _ for Eliott. Which, the more Lucas thinks about it, makes perfect sense.

Hot drinks in hand, warming his fingers even through the fabric of his hoodie, Lucas takes a deep breath and before he lets himself think about it anymore, strides over to Eliott’s table. He clears his throat when he reaches the table, standing awkwardly as Eliott jumps and looks up from his laptop, his slightly dazed expression of being engrossed in his work giving way to irritation.

But Lucas isn’t having any of that – not today. So he sets the tea in front of Eliott, next to Eliott’s other, empty, mug, and then pulls out the seat across from him, as if daring Eliott to speak. He does.

“What’s this?” Eliott’s voice is quiet, testing.

“A refill.”

Eliott rolls his eyes. “I can see that. What do you want, Lucas? I’m trying to study.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucas blurts out, unable to contain it anymore. He runs his hand through his hair, heat rising in his cheeks as flustered words fight their way out. “So it’s an apology, the tea. Or no, that’d be a pretty lame apology, but, uh, it’s the start of an apology.” Lucas shakes his head and almost feels like laughing at how terribly he’s forming thoughts, stringing words together, but he pushes on. 

“Uh, I’m really sorry about how I acted on Friday. I was way out of line.” Lucas pauses, taking another long steadying breath. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, or said all that stuff to you. I had a bad day and it’s not an excuse, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” As he finishes speaking, he chances a glance up at Eliott, who is staring at him with wide eyes.

Eliott shakes his head, a slightly bewildered smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “Uh thanks, Lucas.” He reaches out for the tea, grasping it between his hands. 

Lucas grimaces, but he needs to get it out. “Also, you were right, what you said.”

“What?” Eliott looks at him with brows furrowed, his green-gray eyes searching Lucas’ face.

“About people not feeling bad about the choices they make?” Lucas’ voice sounds small. “You were right. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad about wanting a soulmate. It’s cool. I don’t know why it bothered me so much.”

Eliott’s face softens and he smiles, for real this time. “Thanks for saying that.”

Lucas shrugs and releases the stranglehold he’d had on his coffee cup – one he hadn’t noticed until just then, and feels the weight already lifting off his chest, the fear vanishing slowly. (And at Eliott’s smile, something perhaps moving in to take its place.)

“And Lucas?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to know I’d never judge you for _ not _wanting a soulmate either,” Eliott says, and Lucas can see in the way he holds himself, the way he’s hunched over the table, the way he’s wrapped his fingers around his mug, that this has been something eating at him too. 

Lucas smiles. “I know, Eliott.” And then – “Thank you.”

Eliott nods and lifts the mug to take a sip of his tea. “So, truce? I’d really like to be able to help Imane again.”

Lucas feels the warmth bubble up in his chest as Eliott forgives him and forgets for a moment that this is all this is – a truce, an apology owed and delivered. This is not Lucas suddenly liking Eliott.

“Yes,” he replies. “A truce.”

Eliott nods and glances at his computer, before looking back at Lucas, a glint in his eye. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you shake on it.” Lucas’ mouth drops open and for a moment Eliott looks like he’s afraid he’s just pushed a little too far. “Too soon?” he asks.

But then Lucas is laughing and he’s bewildered to find that for a moment, he’s smiling at Eliott and Eliott is smiling back. “No, it’s okay,” he says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I deserved that.”

And if Eliott offers for Lucas to sit with him until he finishes his coffee, and Lucas accepts, no one needs to know.

***

It’s better from there. It turns out Eliott is a generally forgiving person, and Lucas is a lot easier to be around when he’s not stuck thinking the worst of someone. 

They’re not friends exactly and there’s some distance between them that Lucas can’t quite name, but things are better. There’s no obvious tension, no pressure building up that striking a match could set aflame.

Lucas likes it better here, not having to worry about running into Eliott anymore. Now they exchange pleasant greetings, smile, and get on with their lives. It’s much easier.

But it also means, of course, that their friends start to notice. Every time Imane sees them together she meets Lucas’ eyes with a mix of confusion and relief on her face – teasing slightly, but kind.

Yann too pokes at him once or twice saying _ now was that so hard? _ but then lets it go and Lucas is grateful because he’d made such a show of hating Eliott, he doesn’t exactly want to explain himself now.

But then one day on campus Eliott passes by Lucas while he’s sitting at a table with the boys eating lunch and they smile and nod at each other in greeting and Arthur and Basile share a shocked expression between them from where they sit across from Lucas at the table.

“So you and Eliott seem to be getting along better,” Arthur says, his voice light and a little confused.

Lucas shrugs. “Yeah, we sorted it out.”

Arthur and Basile share another glance as Yann chuckles next to him. “So you like him now?” Basile asks incredulously.

Lucas shakes his head. “No, of course not,” he says, but that’s not really entirely true. “Or...I don’t _ like _ him, but I don’t hate him either. He just is.”

“Whatever you say Lucas.” Arthur smirks. 

Lucas rolls his eyes, but there deep in his chest is the feeling that he needs to explain himself, needs them to know where he and Eliott actually stand before they get any ideas. “I mean obviously I still don’t get why he’s all eager to find his soulmate, but I’m working on not letting it bother me. It’s his choice.”

That seems to shock the other boys into silence. But only for a moment.

“When did you decide to grow up?” Arthur asks, laughing. “Where’s the petty Lucas I know?”

“Oh fuck off.”

But from there, it just becomes a thing. Their friends stop walking on eggshells around them. They start inviting both of them to more things, stop trying to run interference on every one of their interactions. And Lucas is starting to realize just how much he was missing in the few months he spent playing sworn enemies with Eliott. The more time they spend outside of that, the stupider it all seems.

Even when they’re forced to interact now, echoes of previous words said in anger or frustration running parallel with their newfound lightness, it all tends to go well. 

There’s a moment, at one of the parties Lucas has been dragged to, where he almost falls back into his old patterns. He’s standing in a corner, like usual, tucked neatly into his several layers, and he sees Eliott from across the room. He’s surrounded by several people Lucas doesn’t know, who all seem to be captivated by whatever Eliott is saying and then Eliott is reaching out and touching them in some way – his fingers brushing against some girl’s shoulders, a hand shaking another, cheeks brushing as he leans in to say hello.

Something dormant in Lucas’ chest roars to life as he watches.

But then Eliott spots him from across the room and smiles slightly before extracting himself from the group and making his way over to where Lucas stands in the corner, his hands shoved in his pockets in the all too familiar slightly timid way he tends to approach Lucas.

(Maybe it’s the unconscious way he’d braced himself for the fight Lucas always gave him. Or maybe it’s something else entirely. The only thing Lucas knows is it’s generally reserved for him.)

But then suddenly Eliott is there, leaning against the wall across from him and Lucas smiles back at him in greeting.

“Hey Lucas.”

“Hey.”

“Enjoying the party?” Eliott asks, turning as if to evaluate it himself.

Lucas shrugs, something in his stomach twisting, still his habit to brace himself for ridicule. “Too many people.”

Eliott laughs. It’s familiar – bright and loud – but Lucas has never heard it as a result of something he’s said. “Yeah, that checks out.”

“You?”

“Not enough people,” Eliott says, smirking slightly. This time Lucas laughs.

They stand there in silence for a moment, but the longer they stand there, the faster Lucas’ heart is beating, unfamiliar with being at the receiving end of attention from someone he knows only a little for so long and then he finds himself searching for a way out, something that could calm the racing in his heart, give him back his breath.

He finishes off his beer and then gestures at Eliott with the empty bottle. “I’m going to go get another,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “You want one?”

Eliott shakes his head. “No, I’m good. But thanks Lucas.”

“Okay,” Lucas replies and then he’s turning to go make his way to the kitchen, adjusting his sleeves as he goes. He makes it three steps before Eliott is calling out to him.

“And Lucas?” Eliott says, his voice slightly louder to carry above the music.

“Yeah?”

“I like your hoodie.” Eliott grins at him, smile stretched wide across his face and then he turns and disappears into the crowd.

This time Lucas doesn’t doubt that he means it.

***

It goes like this then, for the next few weeks. Lucas runs into Eliott every once in a while on campus with the boys, once or twice helping Imane gather things for her surprise, and most weekends at parties on campus. They’re civil, friendly even, in a way that Lucas could have barely imagined just a month before. 

But it’s nice honestly, to put his anger and resentment towards Eliott away and instead just exist with him. Lucas has stopped fixating on him so much, and he’s sleeping better without being plagued by guilt at acting like an asshole.

He wishes, sometimes, that he was able to let go of his anger that easily all the time. But really, it hadn’t been hard because Eliott hadn’t really done anything to him. It wasn’t like Lucas particularly _ liked _ him, or would ever understand his obsession with soulmates, but there wasn’t really fuel for his antagonism towards Eliott. That fire had burned hot and bright but had burned out just as quickly once Lucas had spent a little more time with him.

But not all fires can be put out. Not all fires run out of fuel. And Lucas is still learning to live with the blaze.

It’s a Friday night, and Lucas finds himself at a party once again, though this time, it’s slightly calmer and mostly with people he knows, or at least met in class, so he’s less stressed about accidentally touching people, or people trying to touch him. He’s developed a bit of a reputation around campus, but it honestly makes everything easier, not having to explain himself all the time.

He’s just made his way into the kitchen to grab another beer when his phone dings. He digs it out of his pocket and immediately his chest constricts in only the way his father’s text can prompt.

**Dad (22:53)**

_ I understand if you don’t want to talk to me… _

_ But we need to talk about your mother again. _

And Lucas _ hates _ when his father pulls shit like this. When he tries to play the guilt card, like he’s unaware that Lucas lives with that shit every day. Like his father doesn’t know it’s _ his _ fault. It’s too much.

And then everything is becoming a bit too much. It’s loud in the room, and there’s too many people dancing and talking and moving about and that familiar panic, the one Lucas has been doing so well with staving off is making an appearance again and he hates that his father can make him feel like that with just one text, but he can’t help it. And then he can’t breathe.

Lucas weaves through the crowd, pulling the sleeves of his gray sweatshirt down over his hands, pulling at the ties of his hood so the fabric cinches tighter around his face, his phone like a heavy weight in his pocket.

His finds the door to the balcony and pulls it open just enough for his body to squeeze through, the air hitting him straight in the face, sobering him up just a little. He hadn’t even had that much to drink tonight. Maybe if he’d had, it’d be a little easier.

Early fall has fallen away to the sharp cold of November, frosty windows and sharp biting nights making a more regular appearance. Lucas wraps his arms around his body, trying to fight off the cold as he looks out across the rooftops of the city.

He startles when he notices someone sitting in the corner of the balcony, smoking. He panics at first but relaxes when he notices the mop of messy hair and the caramel colored jacket because he recognizes it. Eliott.

Eliott looks up then, and noticing Lucas standing there staring at him, smiles. It’s kind and gentle and much friendlier than Lucas probably deserves.

“Hey,” Lucas says, wiping at his eyes and hoping that Eliott hadn’t noticed the tears he’d almost spilled.

Eliott looks at him a moment before scooting over on the table he’s sitting on patting the wood next to him. “Join me,” he says.

And normally Lucas wouldn’t accept, would find a way to extract himself from getting that close to anyone. But there’s enough space so that he won’t touch Eliott and honestly, he really doesn’t want to be in the party right now. So he goes over and sits down.

As he settles, Eliott looks him up and down once, staying for a moment on his face. Lucas curses how he’s always failed at hiding his emotions. He knows they’re painted there for Eliott to see and so he breathes in deep, waiting for the inevitable. For Eliott to ask him if he’s okay, only for Lucas to not know how to respond, leaving him frustrated and fanning the flames of his anger.

He braces himself, but it never comes.

Instead, Eliott takes a long drag from the joint and then moves it in his fingers as he exhales, holding it delicately closer to the burning end, leaving most of it untouched.

“Want some?” Eliott asks, holding it out to Lucas. And Lucas realizes Eliott’s moved his fingers to give him the best chance of grabbing it without touching him. “Only if you want, of course.”

Lucas nods, pulling down the sleeve of his sweatshirt to expose his hand as he reaches out, taking the joint from the far end, managing to easily avoid Eliott’s skin. “Thanks.”

Lucas takes a hit and Eliott smirks with him.

“A little close for you, isn’t it?” Eliott teases, and somehow it actually feels like teasing to Lucas. “Playing with fire I see.”

Lucas shrugs, his phone still heavy in his pocket. “I’ve been burned before.”

Eliott inhales, but says nothing else and for a while they sit in silence as they pass the joint back and forth until it’s too small to be safely handed over to Lucas without him touching Eliott. Lucas leans back on his elbows then, enjoying the way his mind feels a little lighter, the stress a little less daunting.

He turns his head and looks at Eliott as he finishes the joint and takes him in as he inhales – the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the gray-green storm in his eyes, the way the moonlight shines across his face, bathing his golden skin in eerily silver light.

“Do you know why I don’t touch anyone?” Lucas asks, his words loud in the quiet night, surprising even himself. Eliott’s head whips towards him, meeting his eyes for a moment with a kind of curious disbelief before moving his gaze to the rooftops in front of them.

“No,” Eliott says quietly.

“Do you want to know?”

“If you want to tell me.”

And that is perhaps exactly what Lucas needed to hear. And maybe that’s why he keeps talking.

“My mom’s soulmark faded,” Lucas begins and he can hear as Eliott breathes in sharply, knows that he understands just what that means. But he stays quiet.

“My father fell out of love with her, I guess,” Lucas continues. “I had to watch as his mark went from red to pink to nothing. It sucked. But it was worse for her. And the thing is, sometimes it happens, I get that. Sometimes you fall out of love, but with them, I never really felt like they actually wanted to be with each other. I heard my dad say once that the mark is like a prison sentence because you get it without realizing what you’re signing up for. He never would have _ signed up _ for my mom if he had a choice. And as soon as he could he left.” He pauses, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. “And you know the worst part?”

“What?”

“It’s nothing my mother did. She was just who she was. And he poisoned me against her. Made me feel like I should be mad at her for not giving me a normal childhood when he could have helped, _ he _could have made it better. It wasn’t her fault, it’s never been her fault. But it was like he was just waiting for the mark to fade, just waiting for an excuse to leave. And as soon as it happened, that’s exactly what he did.”

Eliott isn’t looking at him, but there’s tension in the way he’s sitting rigidly next to Lucas. His voice is soft when he speaks. “Is your mom okay?”

Lucas nods, his fingers picking at the wood of the table next to him. “She’s fine, she just…” he pauses. “Well, she’s schizophrenic and she needs help.”

“That must be hard,” Eliott says tightly.

“It was,” Lucas says. “It still is sometimes. But she’s my mom and when she’s doing well, she does really well and she loves me. But it’s stuck with me. I see how she’s hurting. And I’d never want someone to stay with me only because the mark told them to. I don’t ever want to hurt like she’s had to.”

Eliott just looks at him.

“But that’s not even why I’m upset now,” Lucas goes on, his words flowing quickly before he can stop himself. “I’m upset because my father moved her to another facility much farther away from me without even consulting me. He left us and acts like he still gets to make all the decisions because he _ used to be _ her soulmate! I mean, how fucked up is that? And they let him! Everyone lets him do whatever he wants and they never ask me what I want. I never get a say–”

He interrupts himself with a sob and he hadn’t even realized he’d started crying but he can’t stop them from falling. And that’s the last thing he needs right now is to cry, especially in front of Eliott. Especially after he bared his soul to him in a frighteningly embarrassing way and he’s confused how Eliott made him feel comfortable enough to let that happen.

Except – Eliott is looking at Lucas, like really looking at him, with a piercing gaze that Lucas can’t hide from, and there’s no trace of malice there, no trace of annoyance or disgust. It’s something else entirely. Something that’s been lingering at the edge of Eliott’s glances for a while now, something Lucas can’t quite place.

And suddenly Eliott is standing and pulling off his jacket but it’s Lucas who feels exposed, so exposed. And then Eliott is moving to stand in front of him, thrusting his jacket at Lucas.

“Put it on,” Eliott says, almost tense. But the words are gentle too.

“What?” Lucas just stares at Eliott’s outstretched arms, but then finds himself reaching out anyway, powerless to Eliott’s words. “I don’t understand.”

“You need a hug, but we can’t touch,” Eliott says, like it’s simple, like there’s always been this solution. “This way I won’t touch you on accident. More than one layer”

And there’s something roaring there in Lucas’ chest, something that’s been living there for longer than Lucas will probably admit but it comes to life at Eliott’s words. And then he’s imagining being wrapped in Eliott’s strong arms, just being held there while his heart races, while his tears fall, and thinks about how his arms could take some of the pain away, even for a moment.

He realizes he’s just been sitting there, staring at Eliott, open-mouthed for longer than he should have and Eliott’s confidence is starting to wane, because hey, they hated each other only a few weeks ago. But Lucas can’t find the words to say that his silence is because no one has ever done something so subtly kind for him in his entire life.

Instead, he just wordlessly stands and pulls on the jacket, adjusting the sleeves around his hands and pulling up his hood, snug against the sides of his face. Lucas watches as the tension leaves Eliott’s shoulders and the ghost of a smile plays at his lips and then Eliott is walking up to him and Lucas feels his body tense as he starts to feel Eliott’s warmth.

And then Eliott’s arms are coming around Lucas, pressing tightly against his back and Lucas finds his own arms coming up around Eliott’s neck, the sleeves of Eliott’s jacket brushing against each other. Eliott pulls him closer, his face tucked neatly into the space between Lucas’ neck and his shoulder, the fabric of Lucas’ hood preventing their skin from touching. 

Eliott’s warmth is encompassing Lucas, making it a little easier to breathe. And then Lucas feels Eliott grasp him a little tighter and something in his chest releases. It’s safe and it’s comforting, being wrapped up in Eliott’s arms.

The tears fall harder now. But Eliott doesn’t say a word, doesn’t make a move to leave, doesn’t flinch when Lucas’ rasping breath makes his whole body shake. He just lets Lucas cry and cry until the tears stop coming. And then he holds him for a little longer still.

They stand there, Eliott wrapped around Lucas until his mind clears enough for his thoughts to start flowing, for the panic to set in. Eliott doesn’t make a move to leave, doesn’t say a word. But he doesn’t protest either when Lucas starts to feel it’s all too much and pushes Eliott’s arms roughly away, leaving the balcony and Eliott standing there alone in silence. For once, Eliott just lets Lucas be. 

And as he runs out onto the street, Lucas finds himself wishing maybe this time, he wouldn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are always appreciated <3
> 
> find me on tumblr [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello loves! thank you so much for all your kind words on the previous chapters :) i'm so glad you're enjoying the story.
> 
> sorry this one took a bit longer. for some reason I could not do words there for a while so there was a lot of writing and rewriting and deleting, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out now. hope you all enjoy!

_ “Gold – what can it not do, and undo?” _

_ – William Shakespeare _

There’s a pounding in Lucas’ head when he wakes up, blankets pulled tightly around his body, early morning sun streaming in through the windows. The corners of his eyes burn as he blinks, raw from wiping away his own tears the night before.

Lucas rolls onto his back as the night comes back to him in flashes. It all feels a little hazy – like he’s watching it through frosted glass, his mind clouded and tired even though he hadn’t had much to drink.

His stomach twists as his mind catches up to him, as the sleep fades and the thoughts return and the words and tears he’d spilled to Eliott become a refrain in his mind. He puts an arm over his face and pulls the covers up slightly more, willing the memories to quiet down just for a little while. It’s still the morning – regret and anxiety should be reserved for the afternoon.

Lucas has fooled himself into thinking he might actually be able to fall back asleep for a little while longer when he hears a soft knock on the door. It throws him off for a second, his mind trying to determine what Yann could possibly need this early in the morning. He thinks about feigning sleep for half a second but decides against it, knowing Yann would never bother him if it wasn’t important.

“Come in,” Lucas calls out, pulling his aching body into a sitting position, his blankets still covering his legs as the cool air hits the bare skin of his arms.

The door opens slightly and Yann peeks his head around it, as if testing to see what state he’d find Lucas in. When he sees Lucas sitting there, it seems to satisfy him because he kicks the door open the rest of the way and walks into the room, two mugs of coffee in hand.

“Brought you some coffee,” he says, his tone light and kind. 

“Thanks,” Lucas replies, narrowing his eyes but accepting the mug from Yann. “What’s this for?”

“Oh, I just thought you’d want some.” He pauses, biting his lip, considering. “And...I wanted to see how you were doing this morning. You were asleep by the time I got home.”

Lucas bites down on his lip, knowing that Yann is trying to be subtle but clearly knows something happened. It used to bother Lucas, when people cared about him like that, but maybe it was more the unfamiliarity than anything else.

The tightness in his stomach twists again though, when he thinks about  _ why  _ Yann would know something is up. He wonders how obvious he’d been, how many people had seen him crying. There’s a voice then that pipes up, loud and clear with the fear that had been nagging in the back of his mind since he woke up – how many people had Eliott told after he’d run off? Had he laughed about it? He’d said he didn’t think Lucas was pathetic before, but did he now? 

Lucas wishes he could learn to keep his mouth shut and not divulge his deepest secrets to relative strangers (or former enemies). He takes a shaky sip of his coffee. “Did you talk to Eliott?”

Yann lets out a surprised sound and shakes his head, laughing a little as he sits down on the bed. “Eliott? Why would I talk to Eliott?”

The feeling in his stomach unclenches, just a bit. So he hadn’t heard from Eliott then. Maybe he didn’t have to worry about that after all. 

Yann lifts an eyebrow. “No, I meant that you left early without saying anything to anyone? I was looking for you and eventually realized that you must have left, but I just wanted to make sure nothing happened that made you want to leave.” He pauses, his face shifting as his words come out with an edge. “Did Eliott do something?”

Lucas lets out a surprised laugh. “No!” he replies quickly. “No, he didn’t do anything. He and I, uh... I think we’re actually sort of friends now.”

And well, okay, maybe Lucas wouldn’t exactly call them friends. There is still some unnamed tension here and there, some things left unsaid but they’re civil, getting along. Maybe friend _ ly _ would be a better distinction? And yet, was there a word for someone you barely know who then listened to you have a breakdown and held you why you cried? Lucas doesn’t know. Frankly, he doesn’t really want to think about it. He doesn’t have an answer.

Yann mouth shifts into what Lucas can only call a smirk, but it quickly disappears from his face. “I see.”

“And, I’m okay,” Lucas says, choosing to ignore whatever that expression was. “Just my dad again. Nothing I’m not used to.” He doesn’t feel like explaining how he broke down in Eliott’s arms just yet.

Yann frowns slightly but then nods his head. He knows about the whole situation with his parents, knows that any sort of conversation with his father is bound to put him in a bad mood. He also knows enough to not press Lucas for details about all of it, to wait for him to offer them. And Lucas doesn’t feel like rehashing all of that again. Not this morning.

“But you’re okay?” 

“I’m okay,” Lucas confirms.

Yann looks at him for a moment longer, before apparently deciding that he’s okay with what he sees there. He pats Lucas’ legs and jumps up from the bed then, a smile spreading across his face. “Well in that case, get up! The boys are coming over soon and I need your help making breakfast!”

Lucas groans in mock protest but pulls back the covers all the same. “Fine…” he whines, placing the coffee mug on the table as Yann turns to leave his room. 

There’s a moment when Yann’s eyes drift over to where Lucas had left his clothes in a pile on the floor the night before and his eyes widen as he catches sight of something familiar lying there.

“Hey, is that…?” 

Lucas jumps up and forcefully shoves a confused Yann towards the door. “Nope!” he shouts as he pushes Yann the rest of the way out of the room and slams the door behind him.

***   
Lucas returns to his room a short while later having freshly showered, pulling on a pair of jeans and his black hoodie. He’s about to go out and help Yann with the food he’s making for the boys when he spies the jacket –  _ Eliott’s jacket _ – bunched up where he’d unceremoniously shoved it in the back of his closet.

It’s stupid, the urge that overtakes him, but then he feels himself walk over to his closet and pull it out, the slightly rough material running across his hands. He blames the exhaustion and the emotional breakdown as he pulls it on, pulling his hoodie out the back as he walks over to the mirror.

It’s a good jacket. That much Lucas will admit. It’s too big for him, that’s for sure, with the sleeves covering his hands, the end hitting at mid-thigh. But it’s a good jacket, which is the only reason Lucas feels a little pleased at the sight of himself wearing it. It’s a good color, too – he can see why Eliott likes it, and Lucas likes how the tan contrasts with the cool blue of his eyes, though he can’t help but think that the caramel color would go a little better with warmer tones, slightly greener eyes, gold-tinged hair–– 

A doorbell rings and shakes Lucas out of his thoughts as he roughly pulls the jacket off, almost tripping in his haste. He throws back into his closet, shutting the doors roughly and thinking, for a moment, that he should probably figure out how to get that back to Eliott. He hadn’t meant to leave with it. Eliott was probably regretting his nice gesture now.

He stumbles out into the hallway, nodding at Yann as he makes his way to the door to let Arthur and Basile in.

They stride into the apartment with far too much energy as far as Lucas is concerned, greeting him and then moving into the kitchen to find Yann, Basile ranting about some girl he was  _ sure _ was about to hook up with him if Arthur hadn’t interrupted. 

Arthur and Basile collapse on the seats at the table as Yann finishes up the food, Lucas pulling plates down from the cabinet. Basile is nearly shouting now and Arthur is calling him delusional and Yann is laughing at both of them and it’s  _ a lot _ for before noon on a Saturday.

“How are none of you hungover?” Lucas asks incredulously, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the energy in his apartment.

“Oh, don’t be fooled,” Arthur says, grinning. “I think we’re all at least mildly hungover, but the promise of food that we didn’t have to cook ourselves was enough to get us out of bed.”

“Fair enough.”

Basile tilts his head. “So why are you _ not _ hungover Lucas?”

And Lucas knows the question is innocent, that Bas doesn’t mean anything by it – merely noting that Lucas looks slightly less like he’d been at a party. But he doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to have to explain about his family, or talk about whatever the hell happened with Eliott – Eliott! of all people – he just isn’t ready. So, instead he just falls back on his ready-made excuse, one that his friends, to their credit, always accept and never comment on.

“It was just really packed in there,” Lucas says slowly. “Got a little too crowded so I ended up leaving early.”

The boys just nod in understanding and Arthur makes a small comment about how the party was never supposed to get that big but damn if it didn’t end up getting a little crazy, and it’s not even an issue. There’s no pressure, no weirdness, Lucas doesn’t feel out of place. Instead, he just is. It’s refreshing.

Yann finishes cooking and then the boys are all grabbing a plate and coffee and moving into the living room where they turn on some dumb movie that they’re just going to talk over anyway. It’s how it always is.

Lucas leans back in his spot on the couch next to Yann, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie as Arthur starts telling them some story about the boy he gets his weed from and Lucas finds himself zoning out a bit.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and his heart momentarily freezes, half-expecting another passive aggressive text from his father that would be sure to ruin his morning.

It is  _ not  _ a text from his father.

**Unknown (12:03)**

_ Hey jacket thief ;) _

It’s followed up quickly by another text. Then another and another.

_ Sorry, I don’t actually think you’re a thief.  _

_ Don’t worry about the jacket, it’s fine! _

_ How are you though? _

_ Sorry that’s probably a dumb question. _

_ It’s Eliott btw _

And there’s something to be said for the way Lucas’ chest fills up, the smile that he can’t push down that makes its way to his face despite all his best protestations. But his mind is loud. He knows he should be wary. This is Eliott after all and they’ve only just made up, they’ve only just crossed the line from misunderstanding to tolerance. And yet – Eliott had grabbed him so fiercely, had held him there while he broke down, had made him feel at ease enough that the tears fell of their own accord, so that he couldn’t do anything to stop them.

And maybe that was because Eliott was still a relative stranger to him. Maybe the unfamiliarity kept the warning bells from sounding in his mind, from telling him to run away, lock it down, refuse to let anyone new in to see the scars he guarded, the ones he hid away.

But the thing is, even when they were fighting, Eliott has never felt unfamiliar. So maybe it’s something else after all.

Lucas panics for a moment and contemplates not texting back, contemplates what that would mean for him, for Eliott, for their friends. What Eliott would do if Lucas turned back into his cold, closed off self, the kind of person that someone like Eliott could resent. Lucas contemplates not responding, contemplates contacting Imane, getting her to get Eliott’s jacket back to him, knows he could very well disappear in this weird cloud of shame that’s formed after his own vulnerability.

But there’s something small in the back of his mind that speaks to him, something aching to be heard, something that Lucas decides to listen to. Because he wants to see Eliott again. He can’t explain it, but he does. And for now, he’s not asking questions.

**Lucas (12:04)**

_ hey _

_ I am feeling better thanks _

_ and thanks for listening to me last night _

He grimaces but decides there’s no easy way to thank someone for dealing with one of your emotional breakdowns. The texts sound stilted, not quite enough to encompass the gratitude Lucas actually feels (or the fear that it’s all a trick or that Eliott might start to see him as he is again and decide he doesn’t like him just like before). 

But then his phone buzzes again.

**Unknown (12:04)**

_ Anytime :) _

**Lucas (12:05)**

_ I am actually sorry about the jacket though _

_ I didn’t mean to leave with it _

**Unknown (12:06)**

_ Seriously don’t worry about it. _

_ You’ll get it back to me at some point. _

_ It gave me an excuse to get your number from Imane anyway so worth it. _

Lucas feels his heart beat pick up completely involuntarily. He ignores it. He doesn’t need to make this weird. Eliott is just trying to be nice to him after the fiasco last night. Which Lucas understands. He really does.

**Lucas (12:07)**

_ You didn’t have my number before? _

**Unknown (12:08)**

_ No. _

_ Not like you would have given it to me lol _

Lucas grimaces. It’s true, for one, and suddenly he feels a brief wave of guilt wash over him as he thinks about what he put Eliott through, which maybe Eliott senses because he texts Lucas quickly again. Not afraid of double (triple, quadruple) texting, this one.

_ I’m kidding. _

_ Though what I’m not kidding about is forcing you to be my friend now that we’ve gotten over all of that and for that I kind of need your number _

_ Hence the jacket-stealing being good _

Lucas smiles and Yann shoots him a glance from where he’s sitting next to him on the couch. For a second Lucas panics, his gaze returning to the television where he pretends to be engrossed in the film on the screen. But all too quickly he gives in.

**Lucas (12:10)**

_ you’re quite the optimist _

_ real glass half-full and all that _

**Unknown (12:11)**

_ That’s me. _

**Lucas (12:11)**

_ oh I don’t know if I can associate with all that positivity _

**Unknown (12:12)**

_ Lucas :( _

**Lucas (12:13)**

_ I might be able to make an exception _

**Unknown (12:14)**

_ :) _

_ Well if you decide you can, you have my number! _

**Lucas (12:15)**

_ I haven’t saved it yet… _

**Unknown (12:15)**

_ Lucas :( _

_ You need to save my number because you still owe me my jacket remember? _

**Lucas (12:16)**

_ okay fine _

Lucas clicks on the number and opens up a new contact, his fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before he types in Eliott’s name and opens up their messages again.

**Eliott (12:17)**

_ What did you save me as? _

**Lucas (12:17)**

_ Eliott… _

_ that’s your name right _

**Eliott (12:18)**

_ Ugh that’s so boring _

_ We’ll have to change it at some point but I guess that’s okay for now. _

**Lucas (12:18)**

_ what did you save me as _

**Eliott (12:18)**

_ Guess you’ll have to wait and see. _

Lucas chuckles and looks up to find all his friends looking at him. 

“What?” he asks.

Yann smirks. “Who are you texting?”

“No one.” He locks his phone quickly, shoving it under his thigh.

His friends exchange looks. “Are you sure?” Arthur asks him.

“Yeah I’m sure.”

“Then why are you smiling at your phone?” Yann asks.

“Just read something funny,” Lucas mumbles under his breath, desperate to change the subject because the last thing he needs is to admit he was texting Eliott of all people. “Aren’t we supposed to be watching a movie?”

Lucas turns and focuses his attention back on the screen, watching out of the corner of his eye as his friends take the hint and turn back to the movie as well.

***

So it starts something then. Lucas is texting Eliott almost every day. Mostly it’s Eliott sending him stupid videos or something dumb Idriss said and then suddenly they’ve been texting for an hour and Lucas can’t understand how that keeps happening. He’s usually  _ terrible _ at texting.

But maybe it’s something about Eliott, how he always seems to have something to say, how he always seems interested in what Lucas has to say and it’s nice to be able to talk to someone like that. 

And maybe, at first, it feels a little strange. Strange to not be avoiding his phone, strange to not be dreading every text that comes in. It’s nice too, talking to someone about stupid things, keeping his mind off of everything that’s going on around him. And even if Eliott is only doing this out of pity, Lucas thinks, for now it’s a welcome distraction. Eliott had the perfect opportunity to get back at him when he cried into his chest and yet, Eliott still hasn’t said anything – so maybe he’s serious about them actually becoming friends.

He’s standing in line at Yann’s coffee shop when his phone goes off. He barely registers how quickly he reaches for it. How in the span of a few days he’s gone from purposefully ignoring his phone in case of unwanted contact to picking it up as soon as it goes off.

**Eliott (13:45)**

_ Made me think of you lol _

And it’s a meme,  _ a meme _ , of course it would be a meme. Endearingly cool and charming and beloved golden boy Eliott also sends memes. Soulmate memes. Ones that makes Lucas laugh out loud in a crowded coffee shop and have several people turning around to look at him as his face blushes.

**Lucas (13:47)**

_ you’re so dumb _

***

He’s sitting at a table in the student center nearly a week later eating lunch with Imane and Manon, Daphné and her girlfriend supposedly joining them in a few minutes. Lucas’ phone is sitting, face down, next to his lunch and he’s trying not to think about the fact that Eliott hasn’t texted him yet today. Because he doesn’t care, not really. He’s just gotten used to it, is all. 

Imane pokes the side of his face. “Earth to Lucas.”

“Hey,” he says, rubbing his cheek. “Just because you  _ can _ touch me doesn’t mean you  _ should _ .” 

(But he’s joking. There’s almost nothing he loves more than when one of his friends who can touch him just does. Not for any purpose, or any reason, but because that’s what you do with people, that’s how people who don’t care get to act. Sometimes Lucas likes pretending he’s careless.)

Imane just rolls her eyes. “How did you do on the anatomy test?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” Imane asks, stabbing a potato with her fork. “I’m sure you did better than fine.”

“I’m sure both of you did amazing,” Manon chimes in, smiling sweetly at the both of them. Lucas shakes his head but smiles back.

“How are you doing Man?” he asks.

She just shrugs. “The usual. My mom stopped pressuring about Charles so that’s nice. But I think she’s worried I’ve passed the prime of my soulmate-finding days. Never been good at hiding her disappointment you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Imane says rubbing her back, but not before Lucas notices her shifting her sleeve to cover her soulmark. It’s not like Manon would ever be angry at Imane for finding her soulmate when she hasn’t, but Lucas has always appreciated that Imane doesn’t feel the need to shove it down their throats. “Anything we can do?”

“No,” Manon says, but then she pauses, thinking. “Well, maybe come by more. I’ve been stress baking and I can’t eat it all myself.”

Lucas laughs and reaches his arm around her. She drops her head onto his shoulder and Lucas revels in the fact that he doesn’t have to overthink with her. He brings his other hand up and brushes the hair out of her face. 

“Ah wait, there’s Daphné and Amélie. Daphné!”

Daphné turns her head and catches sight of them sitting at the table, Manon waving frantically at her, and her face breaks into a wide grin. She whispers something in her girlfriend’s ear and then she’s dragging her over to the table by their tightly clasped hands, their skin glowing red in all the places they’re pressed together.

“Hey guys,” Daphné says, and then gestures to her girlfriend. “You all know Amélie.”

Amélie turns and greets all of them and then Daphné is pulling her down as she takes a seat across from Manon, launching into an explanation of some big scandal happening in one of the clubs she’s on the leadership team for. Lucas, honestly, can’t keep up.

Lucas finds his thoughts drifting as the girls talk around him and his eyes land on the swirling red peeking out of the collar of Amélie’s shirt. It’s bright, lighting her skin up a bit like fire, igniting something in Lucas’ mind. He normally avoids looking at the marks, preferring to pretend like they don’t exist but for whatever reason he can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

He glances down to where Daphné’s hand is resting on the table the small red marks, like fingertips on the back of her hand. That was how her and Amélie had met actually: Amélie had brushed past Daphné in a grocery store and when Daphné had looked down she’d seen the red spreading across her skin. She’d dropped her basket immediately and dashed after her. They’d been together since. 

And normally this is exactly the kind of relationship that Lucas despises about the soulmate system. That you can meet a perfect stranger and be expected to fall in love with them. It just feels so fake and dangerous to Lucas – setting yourself up for a broken heart. 

But he’s been around Daphné and Amélie, knows what they’re like. And it feels, at least from the outside, like the love is real, no matter how they met, no matter the pressure from the universe. But maybe they just got lucky.

It’s possible, he supposes, to have the universe tell you you’re meant to be, but also choose to be together, to love one another. Maybe, in a different life– 

His thoughts are interrupted by Imane shouting at another person walking by their table. He sees her first, Alexia, with her bright blue hair and loud laugh.

But then he sees who she’s walking with and his heart drops to his stomach. Eliott. Of course. He hasn’t seen him in person since he was tucked neatly into his chest. He has to remind himself to breathe. 

Because it’s just Eliott, right? And they text now, so it shouldn’t be weird. But there’s something so much less daunting about speaking with someone behind a screen when you have time to collect your thoughts, minutes to craft responses and react without the other person immediately noticing. 

And even though their conversations flow when they type them, who’s to say that they’ll be as easy in person. Lucas swallows hard, trying to fight the panic moving into his chest. It’s a losing battle.

Alexia and Eliott make their way over to the table, Alexia greeting them all loudly and Eliott is standing behind her, before also saying hi to Imane. And Imane is laughing and asking Alexia how she knows Eliott and Alexia is saying something about them having a class together and they’re introducing Eliott to Daphné and Amélie and it’s chaos truly, but Lucas won’t look.

Lucas can’t look. He just keeps staring down at his food, picking at it restlessly, terrified of catching Eliott’s eye, of some kind of strange strangled half-greeting, because what do they even say to each other? Before it was easy, a simple head nod, a short conversation and then they moved on. But now, Lucas has been talking to Eliott more than almost anyone else this week, but when it’s suddenly put right in front of him, when he’s caught off-guard with Eliott in the flesh at a time he was definitely  _ not _ expecting to see him, it’s a bit bewildering.

Manon seems to notice something is up because she reaches out, placing her hand gently on top of Lucas’ so that he looks up and meets her eye. She mouths  _ Eliott? _ like a question, just his name and yet Lucas knows what she’s really asking. He’d forgotten she hadn’t met him yet. He gives her an almost imperceptible dip of his chin in response and her eyes widen slightly.

It’s due to this silent conversation with Manon that Lucas doesn’t notice that the other girls have invited Alexia and Eliott to stay and eat with them. So when he finally turns back around to face the rest of the table, he nearly jumps out of his chair when he finds Eliott sitting right next to him, face split into a gentle grin.

“Lucas,” he says, still smiling as he nods at him in acknowledgement. “You mind if I sit here?”

“I– Hi, um– no that’s fine,” Lucas stutters, his heart deciding now is a good moment to pick up the pace, before shoving another bite of food in his mouth.

“Having a good day so far?” Eliott asks him. 

Lucas finishes chewing and looks up at Eliott. “It’s alright.” He shrugs. “How’s yours?”

“It’s alright,” Eliott repeats, his tone mocking slightly, but it’s gentle, it’s teasing. Lucas feels himself nearly blush.

Lucas takes another bite and feels the silence settle around him and he isn’t sure if he should be doing something to remedy that, if he should be leading this conversation. It’s just that when they text, Eliott tends to take the lead and god, why is he overthinking this so much? At this point it’s probably been too long anyway to start a new topic, he thinks, but even though the girls are talking enough for the both of them, it feels like a little bit of a failure to leave their conversation there.

And then suddenly he’s remembering a text Eliott had sent him a few days before during one of their conversations about a big project he had to finish for one of his classes. It had been really stressing him out and he was complaining and if Lucas remembers correctly...it was due today.

“Wait, how did your project go?”

Eliott nearly chokes. “What?”

“Your big project. Wasn’t that due today?”

Eliott stares at him for a moment. “Uh yeah it was.” He pauses. “It went well I think.”

“Oh I’m sure it did,” Lucas replies.

“I’m surprised you remembered.”

Lucas waves him off. “C’mon, you didn’t tell me  _ that _ long ago.” He grins. “Plus, don’t  _ friends _ remember things like that?”

Eliott grins back.

And then suddenly it’s easy. Easier than Lucas could have hoped for really. Not that he should be  _ that _ surprised – there’s always been something about Eliott that made it easy to talk to him. Clearly, seeing as Lucas had spilled his secrets to him a little over a week before. 

Eliott launches into a full-scale explanation of his project because Lucas asked, and Lucas finds himself actually interested in hearing the answer. And the thing is, the more Lucas talks to Eliott, the more he finds he actually, genuinely might like him as a person. Which is astounding, to say the least.

“So I’ll see you Friday?”

“Friday?”

“To help Imane set up the party?”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you Friday. And I’ll bring your jacket.”

“Okay.” Eliott winks. And then he’s gone.

***

He’s facetiming Manon from his bed when it all finally hits him. The weirdness of it all. How two weeks ago Eliott was nothing more than an acquaintance that he used to dislike. How Lucas told himself that being civil with Eliott was fine, that they didn’t need to be friends. How quickly that had started to change, just because Eliott had gotten his number.

It hits him because Manon and him are talking about some show she’d made him watch and she can see, clear as day, as a new text from Eliott rolls in that starts with the phrase:  _ You will not believe what Idriss said to me today… _

Lucas gets distracted. It’s really not his fault. Manon notices.

“ _ Who  _ are you texting all the time?” she asks teasingly. Apparently she’d noticed more than Lucas realized. 

“No one,” Lucas replies.

“No one?” Manon lifts an eyebrow and waits.

“Eliott,” Lucas whispers. He’s never been good at denying Manon.

Her eyes widen. “Eliott?” she asks, a little bewildered. “You two text?”

Lucas nods, feeling his cheeks burn a little under her gaze through his phone screen. He looks across his room to where Eliott’s jacket is slung across the back of his desk chair after it had been rescued from the floor of his closet. So it would be in good condition when he brings it back to Eliott, of course. “Yeah, I borrowed his jacket and needed to get it back to him,” he says, because it’s a simple explanation and he’s not sure what else to say. “And then we just started talking.”

Manon blinks. “Imane always did say that she thought you guys would get along,” she muses, almost to herself. “So are you two friends now?”

Lucas pauses for a moment, thinking. “We’re getting there.”

***

It’s after ignoring another one of his father’s calls that Lucas finally musters up the courage to call his mother. He’s been wanting to visit her, but with his classes and her now living nearly three hours away, it’s difficult. His heart pinches a bit when he thinks about it.

It’s Friday and he was just about to leave to help set up for Sofiane’s party tomorrow night. He’d been nervous about seeing Eliott again, the first time it would just be the two of them since the balcony incident. 

And then his father had tried to call and Eliott’s warm arms had come back to his memory and somewhere, deep inside, he’d reached for the one thing he could do, the one thing he could control. He’d run outside, desperate for the chilly evening air, and pressed his phone to his ear.

“My darling,” his mother whispers into the phone. “Oh, it’s so good to hear from you.”

“I heard you’re having a good day Maman,” Lucas says softly, one of the nurses mentioning it when he’d first called the clinic.

“Yes, I’ve been having more of those recently.”

Lucas sighs, biting back tears. “So you’re doing well? I want to hear it from you.”

“Yes, darling,” she replies. “I’m doing well. For now.”

“I’m so glad Maman. And the new place?”

“It’s alright. Very nice.” She pauses. “Though a little far from you.” His heart breaks a little at her words.

“I’m sorry,” Lucas says before he can stop himself.

“Sorry? Darling whatever for?”

Lucas wipes at the tears now falling freely down his cheeks. “For letting him take you away. For letting him do all these things and not being able to stop him.”

“Lucas,” his mother says sternly. “Lucas, listen to me. You are my son and I love you. But you need to stop beating yourself up over mistakes that aren’t your own.”

“But Maman–”

“Lucas,” she says, her voice strong and measured, like she used to sound when Lucas was young. “I don’t blame you for anything. None of this is your fault, do you understand me? None of this. Your father and I both made mistakes and the world has never been kind to people who lose their soulmates, but none of that matters now. What matters is that I'm working on getting better, I’m working on managing it and I love you. I love you and that’s all that matters, okay?”

Lucas nods before he remembers his mother can’t see him, and feels the hot tears stream down his face. “Okay.” And then, quietly, before he hangs up the phone, “I love you.”

***   
When Lucas steps into the building, the first thing he sees is Eliott standing with his back to the door, arranging supplies on a small table. Then he remembers.

“Fuck.”

Eliott whips around, clearly unaware before that moment that Lucas was there. He laughs. “You okay?”

“Shit yeah, hi,” Lucas says as he makes his way across the room throwing his bag down on a chair and unzipping his coat. “I just forgot your jacket. I left my apartment in kind of a hurry and completely forgot about it.” He glances over at Eliott. “Sorry, I can bring it tomorrow.”

Eliott smiles, bright and kind. “Lucas, don’t worry about it, really,” he says. “Running late were we?”

Lucas shrugs, unsure how much he wants to divulge about his state of mind as he left his apartment, unsure how much he should be putting on Eliott, how much Eliott really wants to hear.

And yet– “My dad called me,” Lucas says quietly. “Got distracted.”

Eliott’s face softens and he puts down the decorations. “Are you okay?”

Lucas shrugs again, but he appreciates the look in Eliott’s eye. Gentle concern, instead of pity. “Yeah, I’m okay. Called my mom instead. It was nice.”

Eliott smiles, but it’s a small private smile. “And how is she?”

“She had a good day.”

They move on then towards the decorations, as if Eliott can sense that that’s all Lucas needs to say on the matter, that just simply putting his frustration out into the world was enough. 

Eliott tells him that Imane is out grabbing some last minute things and asked them to put up the glow-in-the-dark stars along the ceiling seeing as that would be the most labor-intensive part of the decor, Lucas supposes.

They decide the easiest way to go about the whole thing is Lucas putting the sticky stuff on the back and Eliott hanging them up, though Lucas would never admit it’s a height thing. Instead, he whines as Eliott teases him, he’s just more detail-oriented and can make sure the adhesive goes on properly. Eliott just laughs.

And it’s back somehow, the easy conversation and the feeling like they’ve known each other for longer than they have, that they’ve been friends this whole time. Lucas wonders why he was nervous in the first place. Though he knows, in his experience, it’s rare to find somehow he gets along with so easily. Then again, maybe shedding barriers with tears so early on aided the swift shift past awkwardness.

Or maybe it was the months spent tiptoeing around each other, and Lucas holding a grudge from afar. 

Eliott asks about his classes, and in return Lucas asks him about his projects, about his adjustment to a new school so far into his degree. Eliott just shrugs. “It’s easier when there are people around who already know you.”

Eliott asks him about his friends, about Yann and Manon, and then sheepishly, and in a quiet voice tells him he noticed Manon touching him at lunch.

“Oh,” Lucas responds, caught a little off-guard. “Yeah, well she can do that. We touched a few years ago so...with her I know.”

Eliott nods. “That must be nice.”

“It is.” Lucas smiles. “Her, Imane and Yann. With all of them I know.” He pauses. “Oh, and one random boy I met in the library.”

Eliott smirks.

“Oh shut up,” Lucas laughs, reaching out and shoving Eliott’s shoulder over his sweater. “It was an  _ accident _ .”

Neither of them mention the touch.

As they move on to another part of the ceiling, Eliott starts to ask him more about his mother. Just little things, like if Lucas has seen her recently and if she’s adjusting well to her new clinic and Lucas can’t help but feel his chest go a little warm.

“She seems to like it,” Lucas says, applying more adhesive to another batch of stars. “But I’m reserving my judgement until I see it in person.”

“You’ll go visit her?” Eliott’s voice comes out small as he steps off the chair. 

Lucas looks up to meet his gaze. “Yeah of course,” he replies. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Eliott sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I really could have used someone like you last year.”

Lucas stills because  _ what the hell does that mean? _ He feels his cheeks burn red. “What?”

“Nothing,” Eliott replies, running his fingers across his bottom lip. He pauses. “Or just, I think it’s really great how supportive you are with your mom.”

And Lucas doesn’t even know what to say because no one’s ever mentioned that before, no one’s ever pointed that out. And really, it’s taken so long for Lucas to get to this point, for him to let go of all the resentment he’d harbored towards her, he hadn’t let himself acknowledge his progress.

“She’s my mom,” Lucas says. “She only ever loved me – all of me. The least I can do is love all of her back.”

Eliott lets out a laugh, but it sounds slightly off-key, like a piano that hasn’t quite been tuned properly. “Do you know why I transferred schools?” he asks.

Lucas shakes his head.

Eliott sighs and leans against the table, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m bipolar,” he says, simply and to the point. Lucas’ heart pinches. “I had a pretty bad episode last year.” He looks up at Lucas. “I don’t want to go into detail but it ended up with me running around desperate to find my soulmate. Touched  _ a lot _ of people that day.” He grimaces. “Point is, it made things difficult and I needed some time to let things settle. And then, in the end, it just made more sense for me to come home and finish things out.”

“Wait, what?” Lucas asks, his face growing hot because he had no idea, how could he not have had any idea. “That’s why you transferred?”

Eliott shrugs and goes back to pressing the stars into place, the tack on the back of them just enough to get them to stick, but not too much that it looks messy. “Yeah,” he says quietly.

Lucas opens his mouth to say something then, anything really, but he can’t find the words, doesn’t know what to say. So instead he asks the question burning on his tongue. ‘Did you find them?” And it’s a dumb question, he knows it is, because Eliott hasn’t, he’s never said anything. But Lucas wants to hear him say it.

Eliott laughs and turns his head to look at Lucas, perched precariously on the chair. ‘My soulmate? God no,” he says, and then he’s right back to hanging stars. It’s mesmerizing, watching him fill the night sky. “And I’m glad I didn’t. Not then. I wasn’t in the right place to handle that.”

“But you kept looking?” Lucas asks, imagining what that must be like, after all the pain and the heartbreak, to have the strength to keep doing it.

“Of course,” Eliott says and it’s honest like that, honest and proud. Eliott doesn’t keep secrets. He doesn’t need to. Eliott sighs and climbs down from the chair, walking over, his back to Lucas, to place the remaining stars on the table. “I needed to,” he says. “It became this positive thing for me when I was so low. Imagining that there was someone out there who was supposed to be made for me. For me! Even with all the baggage, all the stuff I was going through, that I could still have a soulmate. It made it easier to keep getting up.

“And then once everything settled and I wasn’t feeling so down, it just kind of stuck. It became this game, you know, of trying to touch as many people as possible so that there would be no chance that I’d miss them – my soulmate.” Eliott turns, glancing over to where Lucas is sitting, adhesive still in his hand. “I was so scared,” Eliott nearly whispers, “that I’d miss them.”

And then Lucas can hardly breathe and he definitely can’t look at Eliott standing there, heart in his hands, opening his chest to dig out his most painful memories and hand them over to Lucas, like Lucas had done on the balcony. Lucas hasn’t even spoken, but he feels raw, he feels exposed and embarrassed, because he realizes then the mistake he made.

“I asked you what was wrong with you,” Lucas says then, his voice quiet, so quiet, his cheeks burning. “That first day when we met. Shit. I made fun of you for caring so much about finding your soulmate.” He’s looking down at his hands, playing with his fingers.

“Hey,” Eliott says, his voice much softer than Lucas thinks it should be. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s not okay,” Lucas says, because he knows how much words can hurt even when they’re not supposed to. He feels something swirl in his chest and he looks up, locking eyes with Eliott. He’s sincere and he needs Eliott to know. “I’m sorry, Eliott. I’m really fucking sorry.”

Eliott smiles and some of the tension, the nervousness in his posture that had been evident when he started talking has gone. “Thank you,” he says, and then he’s walking closer to Lucas, pulling up a chair and Lucas finds himself noticing how he runs a hand through his hair, messing up the strands.

“Sometimes I wish I could redo the first time we met,” Eliott says as he sits, hands rubbing his knees. “I should have remembered what Idriss told me. And I shouldn’t have made you feel bad about it. God, you just made me all flustered and I don’t know, I just got weird.”

“I made you flustered?” Lucas asks incredulously, shaking his head. “I don’t buy it.”

Eliott shrugs. “It shouldn’t be that surprising.”

And Lucas wants to ask, wants to press a bit there on a thread that seems close to unraveling, but Lucas isn’t sure what’s waiting for him at the end, so instead he stays quiet. Instead, he says, “It just freaked me out. It wasn’t about you, I promise, it’s just I’m weird about the whole soulmate thing.”

Eliott just nods his head probably remembering what Lucas had told him on the balcony. But Lucas knows he doesn’t really understand. How could he? But he doesn’t pressure Lucas to explain, doesn’t try and make him spill his heart before he’s ready and Lucas is realizing with every passing second how wrongly he’s judged him.

“I just don’t want my soulmate to be a stranger,” Lucas says weakly and he’s not sure he’s ever said that out loud before, like that. “I don’t want them to stay just because the universe tells them too.”

Eliott doesn’t say anything for a moment, the silence settling neatly around them and Lucas wonders if that sounded too pathetic, if Eliott is regretting opening up to him, having to be around someone so lame, so broken, so afraid of everyone else. Instead, when Eliott speaks, it’s with a warmth he’s never heard before.

“I understand, Lucas,’ he says and he sounds sincere. There’s no hint of the mockery Lucas is accustomed to when he’s voiced his aversion to soulmates before. This is what it’s like, Lucas thinks, when someone actually listens to what you have to say. 

Lucas smiles and finds Eliott smiling back at him, and something shifts in Lucas’ chest. “We should finish, huh?” Lucas says and he makes his way over to the table with the stars to grab another package and get started on another area of the ceiling. Imane will be back soon and they’ve hardly made any progress.

He’s tearing open the plastic when Eliott speaks again.

“For the record,” he says, his voice moving closer as he comes up to the table to join Lucas in arranging the stars, “I think it’d be impossible for your soulmate to only want to be with you because the universe tells him to. Whoever he is, he’s a lucky guy.”

Lucas whips his head around the where Eliott is standing next to him. Eliott only gives him a shy smile before he’s walking back to the chair to begin hanging stars again, but Lucas takes a moment to steady himself against the table.

And his heart starts beating again.

***

In the end, Sofiane’s party goes off without a hitch. He’s genuinely surprised, it seems, and crushes Imane in a hug the minute he walks through the door. All his friends are there, and Imane’s too and it seems like the first time in a long time that they’ve been able to do this, altogether.

And then Lucas remembers why. Because of  _ him _ , because he was an asshole, because he fucked up with Eliott and made everyone else pay the price. Sometimes Lucas is surprised they all still put up with him, after all the shit he’s put them through. And yet, they’re always there.

Imane is beaming at him as they lock eyes across the floor. The most genuine and happy smile he’s seen from her in a while. The kind of smile Sofiane has always been good at bringing out. The kind of smile that warms Lucas to be on the receiving end of.  _ Thank you _ , she mouths. He smiles back.

As he normally does, Lucas has hidden himself in a corner of the party, his back to the wall so no one can sneak up behind him, so he feels safer. That helps, and also the fact that he’s wearing Eliott’s jacket. Again.

It’s just that he promised he’d bring it back to Eliott tonight and he’d been doing such a shit job at remembering so the easiest way to make sure it came with him was to put it on. Yann had lifted an eyebrow in surprise when Lucas had walked out of his room in it before they left for the party. Lucas had felt his cheeks burn but he’d simply shrugged and walked out the front door. Yann had left it at that.

But it’s nice, standing here now at the party wearing the jacket again. It’s a nice jacket after all – Lucas had always said that. It’s heavy and warm with deep pockets that hide his hands. And it smells good, so added bonus. It feels a little bit like armour and it makes him feel safe, another barrier between him and strangers, him and the world.

“Looks good on you,” a voice whispers from beside him, making Lucas jump. So much for picking a strategic location where no one could sneak up on him. Zoning out certainly made that easier.

Lucas turns his head to find Eliott grinning at him and Lucas feels the embarrassment well up a little at being caught. But he’d never admit it.

“Ha ha,” he replies, moving to take the jacket off and hand it back to Eliott, pretending like he’s not going to miss the way the collar sits up against his neck or the way the sleeves fall over his hands. “Just didn’t want to forget it again.”

He’s pulling his arm out of one of the sleeves when Eliott makes a move to stop him before snatching his hand back. Instead he speaks. “No, just uh...just leave it.”

Lucas stills. “What?”

“Well for the party at least.” Eliott shrugs, looking a little sheepish. “Another layer and all that? You can give it back to me at the end of the night.”

Lucas bites the inside of his cheek, trying (and failing) to not show anything on his face. “You sure?” he asks.

“Of course,” Eliott replies. “What are friends for?”

Lucas smiles.

They talk then for a while about nothing in particular, but they’re both laughing and it’s fun and simple and more carefree than Lucas has felt in a long time. Sometimes, talking to Eliott, he forgets that they haven’t always been like this. He’s grateful they are now.

They’re still talking when Idriss calls Eliott’s name from the other side of the party and gestures for him to come over. 

“You should go,” Lucas says.

Eliott shrugs. “Probably.”

Idriss calls for Eliott again.

“It’s okay. Go.”

Eliott nods and stands up from the wall where he’d been leaning against it next to Lucas, looking him up and down once while Lucas does his best to hide his growing self-consciousness.

“Lucas?” Eliott asks gently. 

“What?”

“I hope you know that even though we’re done helping Imane, I’m not done forcing you to be my friend.”

Lucas bites back a smile. “Okay.”

Eliott looks taken aback. “Okay? That’s it? You’re not going to fight me on this?”

Lucas shrugs. “Turns out I kind of like being your friend.”

There’s a beat. Eliott just looks at him.

“I kind of like being yours too,” he replies, and then he turns and disappears into the crowd leaving Lucas with a warmth in his chest, pulling Eliott’s jacket tighter around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cannot believe we're halfway through already! got lots more planned: a little angst and definitely some romance so stay tuned
> 
> i'd love to hear what you think so kudos and comments are much appreciated!!
> 
> as always, you can find me on tumblr [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay everyone! I had a bit of a run around on the writing process, but it's here now, hope you enjoy :)

_ “Fine gold is recognized when it is tested.” _

_ ― Leonardo da Vinci _

It happens then, with much more ease than Lucas was expecting, him and Eliott, as friends.

It starts off slow and small, grabbing coffee or doing homework together, Eliott's tentative smiles turning into laughter and sharp wit.

It’s funny to see how quickly Eliott in person becomes the Eliott Lucas had gotten to know in his texts - funny and smart and altogether too kind for his own good. And something works there, between the two of them, in a way that Lucas couldn’t have ever seen coming. 

Eliott takes Lucas’ dry humor and somewhat grumpy attitude with a smile and a quick deflection, careful to not let Lucas wallow for too long. And Lucas takes Eliott’s slightly lofty cheerfulness with an affectionate groan and his deep passion about the strangest things with genuine interest, fascinated by the way Eliott’s face lights up when he’s given leeway to talk.

And so those coffees and tentative library hangouts turn into movie nights and lunch and meetings between classes, and it’s easy, even if Lucas doesn’t recognize it at first.

Which is why Lucas finds himself here, on a Friday evening, sitting on Eliott’s couch watching a movie, like that’s something they do, before the other boys join the pregame Eliott and Idriss are hosting.

And yet, maybe that is something they do now. It’s been a few weeks since Imane’s party–late autumn fading into winter bringing cold, a holiday break, and a new semester, and yet, somehow Eliott has suddenly become one of the more permanent fixtures in Lucas’ life. It seems that after Lucas’ initial confession that he likes being Eliott’s company, Eliott had, perhaps unsurprisingly, doubled down on them actually hanging out, actually being friends.

So here they are, folded in next to each other on the couch, Eliott a respectable distance away and Lucas finds that once again, he’s not even thinking about the possibility of being touched. Since that first time, that first strange misunderstanding, Eliott has never given him any reason to think that he wouldn’t be respectful of Lucas’ wishes. Not only that, but he’s also never made a big deal out of it, something Lucas is eternally grateful for. It’s nice, not to feel out of place.

(But with a pinching heart, Lucas recognizes that perhaps Eliott is more conscious than other people because he’s also been made to feel out of place.)

In all honesty, Lucas isn’t even sure what movie they’re supposed to be watching. It’s something Eliott had to watch for one of his electives, and he’d coerced Lucas into watching it with him with promises that it’d make him  _ feel _ things. (But it was never really going to be Lucas’ thing.)

Eliott, however, seems completely enthralled, jotting things down every so often, probably in preparation for the paper he’s going to have to write on it later. He’s got his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and he’s staring closely at the screen like he’s afraid he’s going to miss something. 

Lucas finds that watching Eliott watch this movie is much more fun than actually watching the movie himself.

Because it’s cold outside, winter settling in heavily around Eliott and Idriss’ small apartment, Eliott had made them both tea, which Lucas has clutched between his hands, feeling the warmth spread deep within his body and it surprises him how comfortable it all feels.

It’s not like Lucas has never had people like this. He’s grateful for people like Yann, Manon and Imane who came into his life, looked around and decided they still wanted to stay. The people who he’s managed to be his honest self around, the people who had made the world feel less lonely.

But there’s something about  _ this _ , about Eliott, that seems to have settled into place so much quicker than anything ever has before. (And there’s something there too telling him that he should pay attention, that if he blinks it might all be gone in an instant.)

He’s far too used to things disappearing. And really, he wouldn’t blame Eliott.

And yet, as he watches, Eliott turns his head to meet Lucas’ eyes and he smiles softly, sweetly, and Lucas feels caught, whipping his head back around to look back at the screen.

“What?” Eliott laughs.

Lucas just shakes his head. “You were just so into it, dude.”

Eliott’s smile falters for a moment, but then he’s sighing dramatically and shifting on the cushions. “It’s a good movie,” he protests. “You just can’t appreciate  _ art _ .”

Lucas throws a pillow at him.

It’s surprise and something else that colors his friends faces when Lucas opens the door to Eliott and Idriss’ apartment later on that night to let them in. He’s been here for a few hours now, coming over after he’d finished his classes instead of trudging all the way back to his apartment only to return here. 

And besides – Eliott had  _ asked _ him to come watch the movie with him, telling Lucas he wouldn’t get his work done without Lucas sitting there telling him to do it. And they’ve spent evenings like this anyway in recent weeks, ever since everyone returned to campus. It’s just not something he’s been sharing with the boys. 

“Lucas!” Yann exclaims as he steps through the door, unzipping his coat and pulling it from his shoulders. “When did you get here?”

Lucas shrugs, trying to play it off as nonchalantly as possible. “A few hours ago,” he replies. “Just been hanging out with Eliott, you know?”

Arthur and Basile exchange a glance. 

“You’ve been hanging out a lot with Eliott recently,” Arthur replies, smirking slightly. 

Lucas just shrugs again. “Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Talking about me again?” A voice says behind him and Lucas nearly jumps, grounded only by the slight touch at his t-shirt covered shoulder as if Eliott is warning him exactly where he’s moving. 

“Why would I be doing that?” Lucas retorts, stepping to the side to let Eliott pass and greet the other boys, leaning back against the wall. 

“And here I was thinking you two were getting along these days,” Yann jumps in, making Eliott laugh.

“Think again,” Lucas says, bringing the beer Eliott had given him a few minutes before to his lips.

Eliott turns to face Lucas, something sparking in his eye as he brings a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Oh Lucas, how you wound me.”

Lucas smirks at him, ready to bite back again only to notice the way his friends are watching the interaction, their expressions veering towards something Lucas doesn’t want to think about. He scrambles for a moment to think of something to say that could hurry up whatever the fuck is happening and get them out of the entryway when Basile interrupts his thoughts, pushing past Eliott to make his way towards the kitchen. “You two are weird,” he says, hoisting the bag of alcohol he’s carrying onto the counter.

“You’re one to talk,” Arthur bites back, making everyone else laugh while Basile pouts.

And then Eliott is swooping in and playing the perfect host and the moment, whatever it was, is gone. 

Which, Lucas thinks, is probably – definitely – for the best.

The atmosphere in the apartment lifts even more as Idriss arrives home from work, a case of beer (and Sofiane) in tow. At the sight of even more alcohol all the boys cheer and Lucas finds himself leaning against the counter in the kitchen laughing more than speaking as the other boys fill up their cups. 

“When are the girls getting here?” Yann directs at Sofiane since as Imane’s soulmate he probably knows the most out of everyone.

“Should be soon,” Sofiane replies, checking his phone before shrugging. “Imane said they left like fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh, and Eliott and I invited a few other people from our classes,” Idriss announces and Lucas turns to lift an eyebrow at Eliott, who had apparently neglected to tell him there would be strangers in his house.

Something throbs menacingly just underneath his sternum which Lucas chooses to attribute to his relative nervousness at being around new people with all the possibilities of touching. He suddenly feels acutely aware of his bare arms from when he shed his sweatshirt earlier, overheating from the warm drinks and the blanket Eliott had gotten them from his room.

Basile and Arthur are busy interrogating Idriss about these newcomers as Eliott looks at Lucas apologetically. “It should just be one or two people,” he says quietly, leaning his head towards Lucas so the others can’t hear. “But I can tell them not to come if it bothers you,” he continues, his voice so quiet that Lucas could have convinced himself he hadn’t said anything at all if he hadn’t seen his lips moving.

“No, no,” Lucas assures him, smiling weakly. “I’ll be...I’ll be fine.” And god, he hates this, the way he always makes things difficult. “Don’t worry about me.”

Eliott looks at him like he’s trying to determine if Lucas is telling the truth before he smiles, the edge of his mouth going slightly crooked in a way Lucas has become increasingly fond of. “Not worried,” Eliott says, considering. A pause and then– “Just want you to be comfortable here.”

Lucas feels his face flush slightly and he’s not sure what to say, really, but Eliott is so close and he’s looking at him, really looking at him, so Lucas goes for honesty. “I do,” he says. “You make me feel comfortable.”

Something spreads over Eliott’s face then, and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something when there’s a sharp knock at the door.

“That’ll be the girls,” Sofiane says and then he’s making his way towards the door to let them in.

The moment passes and Eliott looks towards Lucas again but suddenly all Lucas can feel is the chill spreading across his overly exposed skin.

“Sorry, I’m gonna...” he gestures towards the living room as he starts walking towards it. “I need to grab my sweater, uh, before everyone else gets here.”

Eliott nods. “Do you want anything else? I, uh,” he coughs slightly, the tips of his ears turning pink, “well I have more layers if you need them.”

Lucas laughs, continuing his walk towards the living room. “Eliott, I  _ just _ gave you your jacket back. You really want to loan me something else?”

“I don’t mind,” Eliott replies quickly.

“I’m okay, really,” Lucas says and Eliott gives him a small half smile. “But thank you.” Eliott’s smile grows bigger.

Lucas loses Eliott in the supposed-to-be-pregame that’s somehow morphed into a full on party and he slowly finds himself taking to the corners, where he always feels safer. At some point Amélie had started keeping him company while Daphné was off somewhere, probably dealing with some crisis with Alexia or Emma.

Amélie is telling him about some artsy film she’d had to watch for one of her classes, complaining about the director and how he probably thought he was really  _ achieving  _ something with his “half-baked attempt at a progressive feminist romance” (her words).

“There were just  _ so  _ many shots of boobs!” she says, rolling her eyes. “And like, I’m a lesbian. But there’s a difference between a warranted boob on screen and like, another representation of the male gaze, you know?”

And suddenly, something is dawning on Lucas. “Hold on,” he exclaims, “Eliott made me watch that with him! And you’re right, it’s terrible.”

Amélie squints at him. “Well Eliott’s in my film class, so that makes sense,” she says slowly and Lucas knows she’s chewing on the other tidbit of information he’s just accidentally offered up.

“Eliott’s in your film class?” Lucas asks, hoping it’s enough to distract her. 

“Uh huh,” she says and then she tilts her head at him, suppressing a grin. “Why were you watching shitty indie film with Eliott when it was  _ his _ homework assignment?”

Lucas shrugs, like he doesn’t know what she’s implying. “He asked,” he says and follows up with a quick, “We’re friends,” as if that explains it. 

“And friends sit through two hours of terrible writing for friends these days?” Amélie smirks. 

“I do.”

“Hmm, you know that’s funny because I can’t even get Daphné to watch those things with me and we’re actually dati–” Amélie is saying and Lucas feels his face start to grow hot just as Daphné bounds up behind them wrapping her arms around Amélie’s neck and planting a kiss on her cheek momentarily staining the skin burning red.

“Hey love,” Amélie greets her and Daphné blushes. 

“Lucas bothering you?” Daphné teases.

“Hey,” Lucas warns but he’s laughing.

“Kidding!” Daphné singsongs. “Do you mind if I steal her away?” she asks, gesturing towards Amélie.

Lucas shakes his head. “Of course not.” And then Amélie and Daphné are disappearing into the crowd and Lucas lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding at once again avoiding awkward questions.

He takes a swig of his beer and feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He fishes it out and ignores the way his chest warms when he sees the message.

**Eliott (22:43)**

_ Look to your left _

Lucas does, expecting to find Eliott there smiling at him but instead he’s greeted by a girl he doesn’t know wearing a garish sweater, colorblocked in contrasting neon colors and god, Lucas is one to support individualism but...it’s ugly. There’s no way around it. He’s sure his disgust is evident on his face and he knows this  _ has _ to be what Eliott was referring to. His phone buzzes again.

**Eliott (22:44)**

_ Remind you of anything? _

Lucas looks back at the sweater, squinting as if that will make it all make sense when he suddenly remembers. A few weeks ago Eliott had dragged Lucas to a contemporary art exhibit and Lucas had spent the entire time complaining about the way the artist had just painted blocks of bright colors on a canvas and sold it as art. Made worse by the fact the collection was titled  _ Modern Soulmarks _ – Lucas couldn’t get away from this shit if he tried.

_ “It’s a scam, Eliott,” he says and Eliott is looking at him, eyes squinted from laughter. “I mean, I got to give it to him, greatest con of all time, getting rich people’s money for a painting a five-year-old could do, but come onnnn.” _

_ Eliott just shakes his head. “Isn’t the mark of contemporary art that it makes you feel something?” _

_ Lucas’ face is red.  _

_ “I’d say this is making you feel something.” _

_ Lucas nearly shoves him. _

He types back a quick reply.

**Lucas (22:45)**

_ shit it’s following me _

**Eliott (22:45)**

_ You know it won’t let you rest until you admit it’s art _

**Lucas (22:46)**

_ never! _

“Still holding onto your vendetta then,” he hears from in front of him and he looks up from his phone to find Eliott standing there smiling back at him.

“Yes,” Lucas responds quickly. “Though I have to say it’d be pretty funny if someone had a giant neon green soulmark so…”

Eliott laughs. “You would enjoy that huh, someone sticking out from the crowd.”

“At least they’d be different,” Lucas says laughing along with Eliott at the thought. Neon green is hardly anyone’s color.

“I think it’d look good on you,” Eliott shrugs, shifting on his feet, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Lucas’ mind nearly goes blank for a second, and his feels his neck get a little warm under the collar of his sweater. But he shakes it off quickly, going for something to relieve the tension. “I highly doubt  _ I’ll  _ ever have a soulmark, Eliott,” he laughs, “knowing me.”

Eliott doesn’t laugh, lifting his gaze to find Lucas’ eyes again. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he replies. 

Lucas’ jaw nearly drops open and he racks his brain to think of something –  _ anything _ – to say when suddenly an arm is slinking around Eliott’s shoulders, attached to a girl Lucas has never seen before.

“Eliott,” she says, drawing his name out. “Where have you been all night?”

Lucas can’t help the way that he stares at the place their skin presses together, scared for a moment at what he’ll find there. He feels himself relax when he sees there’s nothing.

“Lucille, hi,” Eliott says, looking towards Lucas instead and stepping away from Lucille slightly, letting her arm drop from his neck. “This is Lucas,” he says gesturing at Lucas who forces his mouth into a small smile. “And this is Lucille, one of my friends from class.”

“Hi,” Lucille greets him and Lucas feels himself unconsciously tighten his hold on the sleeves of his sweater, but she makes no move to touch him. She turns back to Eliott and whispers something in his ear. Lucas manages to catch a few words like “shots” and “come on” and sure enough when Eliott turns back to Lucas there’s something apologetic on his face.

“Sorry,” Eliott says, “I just have to go say hi to some people from class…”

Lucas cuts him off. “It’s fine,” he says, forcing his mouth to rearrange into a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll see you later?” Eliott asks and all Lucas can see is the way Lucille’s reached for his arm again. (And maybe the way Eliott moves out of her grip to step closer to him.) “Find me before you leave?” Eliott’s voice is almost at a whisper.

“Sure,” Lucas says and then Eliott is being whisked away as Lucille shouts a “bye, Lucas” over her shoulder.

And if Lucas takes a bigger-than-normal gulp of his beer, no one needs to know.

In the end Lucas barely sees Eliott for the rest of the night, Eliott too caught up with his friends from class and Lucas suddenly having to deal with an overly drunken Basile. 

It’s as they’re nearly carrying Bas out the door that Lucas looks up and finds Eliott again, standing by the bar. Lucas shoots him an apologetic look, indicating the mess tripping over himself in front of them. Eliott shoots him a smile and raises his hand in a small wave. And then Lucas is gone. 

Later that night, as Yann and Lucas make their way back to their apartment, Yann swings an arm around his shoulders and gives him a look.

“Didn’t see much of you tonight,” Yann says, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, I lost you for a while,” Lucas laughs. 

“Hmm…”

“What?”

“Were you with Eliott?”

It’s Lucas’ turn to give him a look. “Yann.”

“What?”

“It’s not like that.”

Yann shrugs. “Okay, Lucas, whatever you say.”

Lucas rolls his eyes, even if there is a text, sitting on his phone that he received shortly after they left. 

**Eliott (00:12)**

_ Let me know when you get home x _

***

It’s become a bit of a thing actually, people asking him about Eliott. Lucas doesn’t get it. It’s not really like he acts that different around Eliott. Sure, they’ve been spending a lot of time together, but they’re  _ friends _ . And this is what everyone wanted anyway, so Lucas isn’t sure why they’re complaining.

Even his mom had said something. He’d finally managed to visit her over his holiday break from school, finally picking up a call from his dad long enough to convince him to send him money for a train ticket.

He’d spent a few days there with her, celebrating the holidays, getting to see where she was living, just talking to her, like they used to. It was nice, really nice, to get that time with her when normally it’d be quite hard.

But as his mother is apt to do, she’d been particularly astute that something was bothering Lucas. That and she’d noticed the way he’d worn a somewhat outrageous number of layers. Finally she wore him down enough to admit exactly  _ why _ he was wearing those layers – something they’d never actually really talked about before. 

She’d given him a smile, but it was small and a little sad, something there below the surface.

_ “Still hiding?” she asks softly, reaching out her hand to cover Lucas’ where it rests on his knee.  _

_ He sighs, but gently. It’s not her fault that he’s like this, even though he knows she blames herself. It’s just how it is – Lucas is scared of what having a soulmate means, what kind of pain it can bring, because he sees how it’s affected her. It’s not her fault, but it affects him all the same.  _

_ “I’m not hiding mama,” he replies, turning his hand over and squeezing hers. “I’m just being careful.” _

_ She smiles at him. “I know sweetheart,” she says, “but there’s such a thing as being too careful.” _

_ Gray-green and gold unconsciously flashes in Lucas’ mind.  _

_ The words are out before he can stop them. “But what if it hurts?” Lucas asks, his voice wavering. _

_ “Then it hurts. For a while. But not forever.” His mother breathes deep before pulling up her chair even closer and finding Lucas’ gaze, forcing him to look at her. “Listen, darling. What happened with your father and I...just because it happened, doesn’t mean it’s going to happen to you.”  _

_ Lucas blinks away tears. His mother grips his hand tighter. _

_ “Love is a complicated thing,” she says. “Soulmates and the kind of thing people think the universe it promising...my dear, it’s not that simple. Everything takes work, takes effort. People change, there are hard times, but there are people every day that make it through.” She pauses. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to spend your life running from something that could be so good, that could make you happy because you’re scared of what might happen. Every day is new. Every day you grow, you change, and I hope you can find people who will embrace that, love you for that.” _

_ She reaches up and strokes Lucas’ cheek. _

_ “It seems to me, like you’ve already found some people like that. Me….Yann, Manon, Imane,” she pauses, thinking for a moment before she keeps speaking. “...Eliott?” Her voice trails off like a question. “All I’m saying, love, is there are people who are already there and there are people who will come. You just have to be open to them. People are as they are, but life is richer for them. So stop worrying, and focus on all the good things you have now.” _

_ She squeezes Lucas’ hand again, and then Lucas is pulling her close, hugging her to his chest. She feels smaller than she used to, back when Lucas was still a kid. But he’s not a child anymore, even if sometimes he still needs his mom to set him straight. “Okay mama,” he whispers into her hair. “Okay.” _

He’s been thinking of that conversation for weeks now, which is maybe why he’s been so willing to open up to Eliott, let him in when he asked. That and there’s just always been  _ something _ that Lucas can’t quite put a finger on that makes it easy to talk to Eliott, be around Eliott. It feels real, like Lucas can be himself and not worry. Because the whole rocky start to their relationship had been his fault, a product of his quick-to-judge nature and his own fear at being judged, ridiculed, othered, something he’d ended up doing to Eliott.

And then, in the middle of it all, Eliott had forgiven him and seemingly wanted to be around Lucas, which he still wasn’t used to. He’d spent so long feeling like a burden, it’s always been hard to stop even when people told him he wasn’t.

He always felt one step away from becoming more of an annoyance than a friend, someone people would tolerate but not enjoy, an insecurity deep and fraught that it often made him lash out, desperate for approval but scared to not receive it. 

And he’s fine with things as they are, despite what everyone is implying.

He holds that thought close as he closes his eyes that night, waiting for sleep to come. He finds the light in his chest, following it up from his feet through his body, the light warmer than it’s ever been before.

*** 

When Lucas sees Eliott again, it’s on a Monday afternoon as they meet for coffee and homework (just because it’s not all they do doesn’t mean they don’t still do it).

They’ve been working for a good half hour now, surprisingly able to actually shut up and do some work for once, maybe a residual effect of the last time Imane had joined them for a “study” session and lost it a bit when they wouldn’t focus. 

Lucas has made significant progress on his study guide when Eliott clears his throat, nervously tapping his pencil on the table. 

Lucas lifts an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliott says absentmindedly, trailing off for a moment before his voice comes back to him in full force, “Uh, it’s just well, I have an exhibit, on Friday, for class, and we’re allowed to invite people and I guess I was wondering if you wanted to go?”

Lucas looks at him, confused. “Eliott, are you nervous right now? I’ve gone to art exhibits with you before. Of course I’ll go.”

Eliott coughs. “No, um, it’s not quite the same thing.” He looks a bit pale. “It’ll have my art...art made...uh, by me. If that wasn’t obvious.”

Oh. How did Lucas  _ not _ know about this? Unless, of course, Eliott had been purposely keeping it from him, which judging by his state may have been the case. (But why Eliott would be nervous for Lucas to be there, he doesn’t understand.) Lucas has to repress the urge to reach out and grab Eliott’s hand with the way he’s looking at him so tentatively.

“Eliott, that’s amazing,” Lucas says softly. “That’s really cool. Of course I’ll be there.”

Eliott’s smile is blinding. “You will?”

“Of course, Eliott. Wouldn’t miss it.”

***

It all changes, as it does, on the Friday.

In a sleep-soaked state, halfway between consciousness and slumber, gossamer threads tethering him to the dream world, Lucas’ mind is filled with phantom thoughts he’s long tried to avoid.

The pad of a finger trailing up on of his arms as he lies, hazy with sleep, in a pile of sweet-smelling sheets, golden sunlight shining in from a crack in the window.

The press of a hand on the small of his back, big and strong almost engulfing him as it pulls him closer to meet soft lips pressing lightly just below his ear, whispers he can’t make out tickling the hair at the base of his neck.

A knee knocks against his own pushing his legs apart slightly to slot them together, crisscrossing skin against skin and Lucas can’t tell where his legs end and the others begin.

It’s soft, so much softer and warmer than Lucas had ever imagined, reaching a hand up to trail his own fingers across golden skin, sun-warmed and sweet, his hand coming to wrap around a waist, feeling lean muscle under the skin, trailing up up up until he brushes strong shoulders, up up up until he tangles his fingers in soft golden brown hair, wild and silky between his fingers.

There’s so much skin, skin, skin, all together touching and brushing and Lucas has never felt anything like this. He blinks rapidly, opening his eyes to watch the way his fingers brush another and leave something behind, a swirling trail, bright and clear. And then he’s looking up, eyes meeting eyes, flashes of gray and green and he leans in–

Lucas wakes with a start, mouth hanging open, breaths coming heavy as he tries to determine what in the hell just happened. His mind comes to him in pieces, still being pulled from the soft comfort of the golden world in his mind, his hands holding onto his old gray sheets with a desperate furvor, sweat drenching his body. 

He lets out a loud groan and flops over on his side, noticing the rain pouring down outside, casting a slightly eerie gray haze across his room. He  _ cannot _ believe what his dream self just did to him, the little traitor. 

Because, as nice as the dream was, as nice as it made him feel, the face in his mind is no stranger and someone he’s only  _ just _ brought into his life. 

Eliott, of course. Eliott with his perfect hair and perfect face and perfect strong hands that could probably take Lucas apart if he wanted...if Lucas decided to let him…

He lets out another groan. Exactly the kind of thinking that will  _ not _ help him. Because Eliott is off limits, and he’ll always be off limits, and he’s his  _ friend _ , his  _ new _ friend, and most importantly, Lucas has made it very clear Eliott is  _ not _ to touch him. Soulmates and all that.

For decidedly not the first time in his life, Lucas loudly curses the universe for coming up with that whole idea. Ruining what should have been a very pleasant dream for him, destroying all opportunities for crushes and meaningless flings and all of that.

Well, for Lucas anyway and all his baggage. 

Also, Lucas thinks, catching himself, not that Eliott would be a _meaningless_ _fling_, per say, but he’d like to have the option, for Eliott to see him as an option…

This line of thinking is definitely  _ not  _ helping. He contemplates just laying there, trying to fall asleep again and forget the whole business, but something tells him it won’t be that easy.

Instead he peels himself off the bed, strips the sheets intending to wash them and all the memories of whatever his brain had conjured up out of the fabric, and heads towards the shower, intending to set the water on cold to rinse his thoughts down the drain and hopefully calm himself down enough to forget all about this. 

And then he’ll never have to think about it again.

***

Except, it’s like something has burst its way to the surface in Lucas’ dreams, making him more acutely aware of something he’d been ignoring for far too long.

It’s not like Lucas doesn’t know that Eliott is attractive. Objectively speaking he’s good looking with his long legs and wild hair and sharp jaw and sure, maybe if he hadn’t been such an asshole to Lucas the first time they met, he would have been unable to ignore the living thing that had taken root in his chest, desperate to be noticed, nurtured, heard. 

But it’s not just that. Not really. 

That maybe that is why there, behind the wildfire in his heart, is something more akin to heartache, a desperate softness aching to be recognized.

Because Eliott is beautiful, yes, but he’s also kind and gentle and the best person Lucas has maybe ever known, which is saying something because somehow in the hurricane that is his life Lucas has managed to know some pretty amazing people.

But there, in the middle of all of it, is Eliott.

The person he’s reaching for first, his thoughts building like they have been for weeks, and at this point maybe Lucas knows what they are. 

He’s at Eliott’s art show when it hits him. Slowly at first, and then all at once.

He’s back against a wall, his preferred location in public, sipping some wine that tastes more expensive than anything Lucas can afford, while Eliott talks to his professor. Eliott had grabbed Lucas immediately after he arrived, dragging him to a small painting in the corner of the room.

“This one’s mine,” he said, gaze shifting rapidly between the painting on the wall and Lucas, waiting for his reaction.

It’s a small canvas, much smaller than the ones Lucas has been seeing the past couple weeks at the exhibitions Eliott had brought him to. But there’s something about it that catches Lucas’ eye immediately. It’s  _ abstract _ , as Eliott had taught him, mostly color splashed across the canvas, but Lucas feels his breath catch. There’s blue and red, and in the middle, gold – bright and shining and real, making shapes across the canvas that both remind Lucas of something and make him think.

“It’s beautiful,” Lucas whispers. He turns to Eliott. “Really, Eliott, it’s amazing, I love it.”

The compliments are worth it if only to see the way Eliott smiles to himself, cheeks turning pink. “You think so?” he asks.

“I do,” Lucas says, “really.”

And then Eliott had been pulled away, needing to talk to some people and he’d left Lucas there, with promises to return. Lucas had relished the few moments to himself to look at Eliott’s painting again.

But now as his eyes find Imane and Sofiane standing in the center of the room, talking to Idriss and a few other people, something in his heart clenches.

He watches as Imane runs her hand gently across the skin on Sofiane’s arm, her fingertips leaving bright red marks in their wake. There all at once and gone again just as quickly.

She leans in to whisper something in Sofiane’s ear and he can’t make out the words from where he’s leaning against the wall, but he sees as Sofiane’s face shifts, the way he meets Imane’s eyes and the sides of his mouth turn up, a smile he’s reserved for her. It’s a private moment Lucas has accidentally become privy to, but it makes something inside of him shift.

And then there’s that weight again, deep in his chest, heart thudding against his ribs, quickly and unsteady: a bastard rhythm he doesn’t remember composing but feels his all the same.

For the first time in a long time, since the day his father closed the door behind him, he wants. 

Lucas  _ wants _ , so deep and so strong in himself that he’s a bit flustered as the realization hits him – full force and in the face, and if he wasn’t propped up against the solid wall behind him he very well might have stumbled from it. His own fingertips lighting up the skin of someone else, theirs returning the favor.

He’d convinced himself, until now, that it was something he’d never have, something he shouldn’t even bother wanting, waiting around in vain just like everyone else. And yet – maybe this whole time he’s just been waiting for something – someone – who’d come along with the key to the locks on the chains he’s wrapped around his heart and let him acknowledge that was only the fear speaking for him, his own voice forgotten in the wreckage his father had left behind.

Because there’s red and blue, and a sign from the universe, a confirmation of everything he’s kept locked up tight in his chest. Thoughts that come to him just as he’s falling asleep, as he’s washing his hair, as he’s pulling up the hood on his sweatshirt for the thousandth time, that he’d banished, sent to live deep in a dark cage where they couldn’t escape. Until someone had turned on the light.

He watches Sofiane reach his hand up, smoothing his fingers across Imane’s cheek, igniting it in a fierce blush and he thinks,  _ what a beautiful thing to have the universe rooting for you _ .

And then, all at once, he realizes something else, something he’d been even more afraid to name, the thing that’s spurred this realization in the first place, set his body aflame, unlocked his heart piece by piece. A boy, with messy brown hair, a tan jacket and a golden smile. A boy, whose eyes crinkle when he laughs. A boy. 

Eliott.

“Eliott,” Lucas whispers, softly and to himself, his voice lost to the crowd around him.  _ Eliott _ .

Because, he realizes with a jolt, it’s not that he’s really changed his mind about the whole soulmate business. He still, honestly, hates that you could run into your soulmate and know before you even know their name. 

But what’s changed is now he has a face to give to the touch he craves. Eliott, he wants Eliott. And wouldn’t it be lovely if the universe confirmed he was right. If all the feelings he’s spent the better part of the last two months at least (though he’s beginning to suspect they’ve been there latent, but powerful since he first glimpsed Eliott’s smile across Imane and Sofiane’s soulmate party at the end of the summer), shoving down within himself, to lock up alongside his fear, were something the universe was granting him all along.

_ Eliott _ . His heart thuds in his chest, painfully, harshly, wonderfully, as he thinks of him, a feeling he can give a name. He thinks of the way Eliott had hugged him on that balcony, their movie nights, their passion-filled debates about the best music (which Eliott, by default, always loses. It’s just, dubstep is never winning that argument), the way Eliott kept offering his jacket without a second thought. And suddenly, it has a name.

Love. Lucas is  _ in love _ . With Eliott. He loves Eliott.

He looks across the room, eyes finding Eliott surrounded by a group of people, head thrown back in laughter and something in his stomach flutters. Eliott blushes as someone compliments his work and something in Lucas’ chest expands. 

And then, the crowd parts slightly and Lucas watches as Eliott leans against the person next to him, a girl, Lucille, from the party. She throws her arms around Eliott’s neck and he holds her close, kissing her cheek.

And something in Lucas’ heart breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the ending, but I promise I'll make it up to you <3 hopefully next chapter out more quickly since I think it'll be easier to write (but we'll see).
> 
> please let me know what you think!! I'm at tumblr [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/) if you want to come yell with me over there 💛


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skam france is coming back to us tomorrow, how are we feeling?? I think the hype for arthur's season got to me, so i'm updating the fastest I ever have
> 
> I also just want to say thank you all for the amazing response to this story! I love reading all your comments and asks and seeing your theories and questions and everything. it makes it so much more fun to write this story and i'm so glad you're all enjoying reading it as much as I like writing it 💛 hope you like the chapter!!
> 
> (also tw for a brief scene dealing with eliott's bipolar that starts with lucas talking to idriss)

_ “Gold runs in our blood.” _

_ ― Virginia Woolf, The Waves _

It’s incredible how fast Lucas is able to get himself to leave the art show. There’s part of him that says that he should just go to Eliott, see him, talk to him, that it might not be what it seems.

But there’s another, louder, part of him that just wants to go, wants to sit in his newfound revelation and process. Wants to think about Eliott, and how he sees him and how this changes things.

Because the thing is, Lucille is exactly the kind of person Eliott deserves. She’s beautiful and seems nice and as they stand together surrounded by their friends, Lucas can see how well they fit, how good they look together, how much Eliott deserves that...or at least something like that. 

And sure Lucille isn’t his soulmate, but Eliott deserves to have someone now, like Lucille, while he waits. Because Lucas can’t imagine a universe in which Eliott doesn’t get his soulmate. There’s never been someone more deserving than Eliott. And knowing now what that means to him, Lucas can forgive his strict belief in the universe, can forgive the stock Eliott takes in the whole soulmate business, because it’s something for him to hold on to, something important. 

In the end, Lucas can’t muster up the courage to go and talk to Eliott before he leaves. He goes up to Sofiane and Imane and says something about a headache – which isn’t entirely untrue seeing how his brain has only been chanting  _ you’re in love with Eliott _ over and over again for the last 20 minutes. And in any case, Lucas doesn’t want to bring down the mood at the show. It’s Eliott’s big night and he deserves to have it as bright and happy and not influenced by emotional turmoil as possible. 

So Lucas finds his coat and slips out. 

He elects to walk home, hoping the cold air will clear his head and maybe dull his senses a bit, giving him some relief from the onslaught of feelings he’s having. He’s  _ in love _ with Eliott. How could he have not picked up on that before? It’s not that it should be overly surprising given how fast he’d let Eliott in, how fast Eliott had made a place in Lucas’ heart to call his own.

And yet, Lucas hadn’t seen it coming. But maybe that’s because he wasn’t paying attention. 

He’s been so wrapped up for so long in the logistics of love, the logistics of soulmates and soulmarks and his vendetta against a system he never chose to be a part of, that he’d forgotten to let himself feel anything else. 

But now that it’s here, now that the feeling has washed over him and the choir that’s appeared in his head is singing only refrains of him loving Eliott, it feels like he may never be able to live without it.

In his haze to protect the heart his father had broken, Lucas had never let himself imagine there would be someone who wanted to fix it, someone he’d want to fix it. And in the end, he’d set himself up for this really.

And Eliott deserves more than that. Eliott deserves more than what Lucas can give him.

So Lucas puts his head down to steel himself against the cold, and presses on towards home.

***

Lucas tries to slink in unnoticed, desperate for a chance to sleep, to forget the feelings churning within him for a few hours. But it’s not that late and Yann is still up, watching some dumb sitcom on the tv and he spots Lucas as he walks in the front door.

“How was the art show?” Yann asks, his tone light and teasing. And Lucas knows what he’s implying, what he’s hinting at, but having been hit with a tidal wave of new feelings and, perhaps, a little heartbreak, he can’t listen to it right now.

“Fine,” he huffs out, heading straight for his room, not bothering to take off his coat and shoes by the door. 

And how Lucas wishes sometimes that Yann didn’t know him as well as he does. “Hey, you okay?” Yann asks, reaching out to pause the show. “Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” Lucas responds shortly.

“Lucas–”

“I said I’m fine!” He slams his door behind him.

He gets ready for bed quickly, dropping his clothes on the ground in a pile and pulling on an old t-shirt he finds strewn across his bed. He’s cold, which is unusual, seeing as his room is normally boiling due to its small size and lack of ventilation. But tonight there’s a chill clinging to his bones and he shivers, pulling the covers up over his head to speed up his body warming the bed.

His mind is eagerly playing the scene at the show over and over again in his head, refusing, for even a moment to let Lucas breathe. He wishes, desperately, that he was even remotely tired, but he’s not and he knows he’ll be up for at least a few more hours. But the darkness and the blankets are calming so he lays there in the silence.

And it sucks, it does, but sleepless nights with his mind fixating on the same thing over and over again are nothing new to him. So he sighs, tries to find the light in his chest to get himself to calm down, but it’s not there for some reason, it’s hard to find. He tries for a while before he finally gives up, flopping over to retrieve his phone from his pants pocket on the floor thinking he’ll probably turn on some Netflix and hopefully fall asleep to that.

He clicks open his phone and his heart drops.

**Eliott (22:53)** **  
** _ Hey where are you? _ _   
_ _ Did you leave? _ _   
_ _ Are you okay? _

**Eliott (23:02)** **  
** _ Okay just talked to Sofiane, hope you feel better! _ **  
** _ Did you get home okay? _

**Eliott (23:11)** **  
** _ Lucas? _

**Eliott (23:30)** ****  
_ Okay I texted Yann and he said you went straight to bed so I’m assuming you’re not responding because you’re asleep _ _   
_ _ Text me in the morning okay? Goodnight x _

Lucas’ fingers itch to respond and his heart is almost beating out of his chest that Eliott is texting him, that Eliott wants to know where  _ he _ is, if  _ he  _ is okay. But then he thinks again of Eliott standing there surrounded by the love he deserved and Lucille and it’s too much. His heart aches and Lucas almost grabs at his chest, but he can’t bring himself to respond. Because Eliott – sweet, charming, beautiful Eliott – deserves so much more than Lucas.

Instead Lucas swipes away and opens up Netflix, finding a show he’s seen hundreds of times before and puts it on, playing episode after episode until his eyes can’t stay open any longer.

***

It should be no surprise then that that night, and for many nights after, Lucas’ dreams are filled with the phantom Eliott that had slipped into his mind and awakened his heart.

The dreams are always the same – lit soft and golden, them laying in bed together, Eliott touching him so softly and sweetly he could cry, leaving trails of red behind in their wake. 

They all end the same too – with Eliott leaning in, Lucas longing to feel his lips against his own – only for Lucas to awaken with a start, breath rapid, an ache deep within his chest.

It’s these dreams, Lucas tells himself that make him avoid Eliott. He hadn’t planned on it, at first, giving himself Saturday to deal with whatever he thought he was feeling and push it down, lock it away, just like with everything else and reemerge totally normally. He can do normal. He can do friends. He wants nothing more than to have Eliott around, but there would be no use in telling him how he feels, because what then?

Eliott is waiting for his  _ soulmate _ and the chance that that’s Lucas, well they’re not very good.

So Lucas plans to tuck it away until the feelings disappear, as he assumes they will, just as quickly as they appeared. But when he wakes up every morning to thoughts of Eliott making him gasp, it’s hard to think of anything else.

For a few days Lucas manages to get away with it. He puts some distance between him and Eliott, texting him back, but only just. He feigns illness over the weekend, shutting Eliott down when he offers to bring him some soup, claiming he doesn’t want to get Eliott sick. He stays in his room for the most part, using the extra hours to study, and thinks he’s even managed to fool Yann, who had picked up a few extra shifts and spent more time out of the apartment than usual.

And then, on Monday and Tuesday, he tells Eliott that he can’t see him because of a major test he has on Wednesday (which, to be fair, Lucas isn’t making up. He’s just, maybe, making up exactly how much time he needs to study for it). And Eliott, like the sweet angel he is, takes everything Lucas says to him at face value, even offering to bring coffee to the library for him, which Lucas nicely turns down.

But Lucas knows that despite his best efforts, Eliott is probably picking up on Lucas’ avoidance more than he’d like. Where memes and silly posts that Eliott would send him normally led to a conversation spanning a few hours, now Lucas replies with a word or two, trying to end the conversation before it starts. It’s just – Lucas can’t get over Eliott if he’s talking to him all the time.

So in the end, it all sets him up to come crashing down spectacularly as it does on Wednesday.

Lucas is at the coffee shop, leaning against the counter chatting with Yann and waiting for his shift to end so they can walk home together when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. He turns, expecting a customer annoyed with him for distracting the barista instead of letting him make the coffees, but instead he’s met with six-feet of sheepish boy, shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets, a tentative smile on his face, dark circles around his eyes.

“Hey,” Eliott says softly.

Lucas stares at him for a moment, forgetting how to breathe slightly, because for all that he’d convinced himself it’d be easy to get over Eliott, seeing him in the flesh for the first time since his realization is like getting hit in the face with a hammer. Lucas’ mouth goes dry and all he can see are Eliott’s beautiful gray eyes staring back at him, warmth flooding his entire body. He swallows, heart pounding in his chest, before he answers. “Hi.”

Eliott shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Lucas has noticed he does that when he’s nervous. So he’s nervous, which makes two of them. “Haven’t really heard from you in a while,” he says, his hand coming up and his fingers tracing over his lips. “Feeling better?”

Lucas shoots a glance over to where Yann is standing behind the counter, seemingly making a cappuccino, but Lucas knows he’s definitely also intently listening to every word they’re saying. “Um, yeah, just caught the flu or something,” Lucas says, “but I’m better now.”

“Good,” Eliott replies.

They look at each other, for a moment, the silence washing over them and this is the first time since they became friends, Lucas thinks, that it’s ever been awkward between them. It brings him back to when they used to not get along, except this time, Eliott is coming in with less fire, less self-confidence than Lucas is used to. He just seems so tired.

Eliott’s hand finds his pocket again and he shifts, looking like he wants to say something. “Um, are you...are you upset with me?” he blurts, eyes dropping to the ground.

Lucas’ chest constricts. “No,” he breathes out, because, god, he’d never want to make Eliott feel badly. This, all of this, is  _ Lucas’  _ fault. “Why do you think that?”

“It feels like you’ve been avoiding me is all.”

“No, I haven’t, I promise,” Lucas lies, because he can’t explain himself, but he also can’t have Eliott thinking this is on him. “I’ve just been really busy.”

Eliott looks up again, catching Lucas’ eye, a small smile finding its way to his mouth. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“So we can hang out soon?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, good,” Eliott says, pulling on the strap of his backpack. “I, uh, have to go to class now, but I’ll text you?”

“Okay,” Lucas replies and then Eliott is gone.

Lucas turns back to the counter and takes a few deep, steadying breaths, his hands gripping the smooth wood. He looks up and finds Yann looking back at him, a strange look on his face. But he says nothing.

Lucas walks home with Yann in relative quietness, cracking jokes here and there but otherwise just making their way to their apartment. They’re both tired, Lucas knows, and he can’t help but think about the leftovers waiting for him in the fridge and the Netflix he can watch since he doesn’t have any assignments left this week. And maybe that will take his mind off of everything for a few hours.

But apparently Yann has other ideas.

The door to their apartment has barely closed when Yann whips around to face Lucas. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” he says sternly. “We’re both going to go to our rooms to change and then you’re going to come back out here and explain to me what the fuck is going on with you.”

Lucas just stares at him and Yann stares back, as if daring him to disagree. The look on Yann’s face is enough that Lucas knows there’s no protesting. 

“Fine.”

It takes a few minutes but soon enough they’re both sitting in the living room on the old couch. Lucas has changed into a pair of old sweats and a sweatshirt and he plays absentmindedly with a thread at the end of one of his sleeves. They’ve been sitting here for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything as Lucas tries to find the words. Because the thing is, Yann will push, but only just. He’d never actually make Lucas tell him something he didn’t want to. But Lucas wants to. He feels like he might explode if he doesn’t talk to someone about it.

Finally Lucas takes a deep breath and pulls on the thread, ripping it off the hoodie. “It’s Eliott,” he says.

He looks up to find Yann looking at him with one eyebrow raised, unimpressed. “Yeah, no shit.”

Lucas groans. “That obvious, huh?”

“I would have paid money to not have to be a witness to whatever the hell just happened in the coffee shop,” Yann says. “It was excruciatingly awkward.”

Lucas groans louder and shuts his eyes. He really brought this on himself.

“Did you guys get in a fight or something?” Yann asks, his face suddenly slightly contorted with concern.

And wouldn’t it be great if it was just that, if it was that simple, if it wasn’t  _ this _ instead, the throbbing in his heart that won’t go away.

“No,” Lucas sighs. “Why would you think that?”

Yann shakes his head. “I don’t know, because it was super awkward and the two of you used to not like each other, remember?”

That time feels so far away now that Lucas almost doesn’t.

“No it’s not that,” Lucas says.

“Okay?”

“I, uh, I think I’m in love with Eliott. Or...I am. I’m in love with Eliott.”

Yann just blinks at him. It’s not the gawking or complete and utter disbelief Lucas was expecting.

“You don’t look surprised,” he says.

Yann sighs. “I’m not, not really. Though I’m not really seeing why it’s a problem.”

“What?” Lucas asks incredulously. “It’s Eliott! I’m in love with Eliott and I just realized it and now I’m avoiding him.”

“Why are you avoiding him?”

Lucas groans again because he doesn’t understand what Yann is getting at, doesn’t understand how Yann isn’t immediately grasping the seriousness of this situation. “What do you mean why am I avoiding him? Because I’m afraid that he’ll find out!”

Yann just looks at him.

Lucas goes on. “And if he finds out, it will ruin everything because he’s waiting for his soulmate and he won’t know how to act around me when he doesn’t love me back.”

Yann rolls his eyes so hard Lucas is scared for a minute they’ll get stuck that way. “Lucas, I know you do well in school, but I swear you are one of the dumbest people I know.”

“Hey! What are you talking about?”

“Eliott is 100% definitely into you.”

Lucas stares at him. “What! No he’s not!”

“He so is,” Yann replies, rubbing a hand across his face and looking so, so tired. “The two of you have practically been dating for the past month.”

Lucas’ heart drops to his stomach. “We have not!”

“All the things you’ve been doing, all the times you hung out? Those were dates,” Yann says, his face straight, voice even. “You do realize those were dates right?”

Lucas sputters for a moment. “They weren’t dates! Eliott had to go to them anyway for school and asked me to tag along. Perfectly friendly!”

“They were dates,” Yann says again, even more firmly if that’s possible. “I don’t know if either of you realize it – you both can be a bit, shall we say, oblivious – but you’ve been dating without all the benefits for a month. Homework be damned.”

Lucas closes his eyes. “No,” he starts, but Yann cuts him off again.

“Lucas,” he says and waits until Lucas opens his eyes and looks at him. “You need to talk to him. He’s been treating you like you’re dating. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the homework assignments he suddenly needed help with weren’t just an excuse to get you alone, go do things with you. What does he need your help for, with his art homework? You’re pre-med for god’s sake.”

Lucas blanches. “Well he wasn’t exactly asking me for  _ help _ , I was just tagging along…”

Yann lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re just proving my point,” he says. And then, “Stop being stupid and talk to him.”

Lucas just stares at him, mouth hanging open. “It’s not...we’re just…” he tries, but no words seem to come.

Yann shrugs, but reaches out and pats Lucas’ shoulder. “Maybe I’m wrong,” he says, “but I think, whatever the case may be, you need to talk to him. Clearly avoiding him isn’t working.”

And Lucas hates it, but he knows Yann is right, knows he can’t keep this up forever.

“You’re right,” he says. “I’ll talk to him.”

***

And Lucas tries, he really does, to talk to Eliott. Only, it seems, Eliott doesn’t want to talk to him. 

Lucas texts him the morning after his talk with Yann. Nothing too serious, just asking if they can meet up soon. He gets no response all day, which is definitely unusual for Eliott. He texts him again that night, just asking if Eliott is okay, which also receives no response.

By Saturday, Lucas is annoyed, and also a little worried. Sure, he was avoiding Eliott too, but that didn’t mean he stopped responding to him completely. And after everything, this just feels so unlike Eliott to leave him hanging like this, to just not get back to him, so maybe, in the end, he’s a little dramatic.

Sure, he could have probably texted Idriss, just to make sure Eliott was okay, but there’s something that tells him it would break his heart to have Idriss be the one to tell him that everything was fine, that Eliott just didn’t want to talk to him. So instead, he heads over to Idriss and Eliott’s apartment.

When he reaches the door to their building, it’s early afternoon and Lucas has spent all morning in the library. Lucas had specifically waited until he knew they’d be up and around, not wanting Idriss to be annoyed with him if he knocked on their door at 11 in the morning. He’s about to dial up when someone leaves the building, so he slips in the door, climbing the three flights of stairs to the apartment.

And suddenly, standing there in front of the big wooden door, Lucas feels a little ridiculous. He’s being dramatic, he knows, and he should just turn back, just wait until Eliott is ready to talk to him again, give Eliott space if that’s what he needs.

But he’s here, and there’s something telling Lucas that he can’t walk away now, he needs to know if this is Eliott deciding he’s done with Lucas for good, if just a taste of a few days away from him made Eliott realize he was better off.

Lucas takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.

He hears some shuffling inside the apartment and then the door is opening to reveal Idriss, who looks at Lucas with confusion written across his face. 

“Lucas...” he says, surprised, “What are you doing here?”

“Is Eliott here?” Lucas asks, his voice wavering slightly as he tries not to let Idriss see his panic.

“Uh,” Idriss replies, looking over his shoulder and then back at Lucas. “Listen, Lucas, he’s, uh, not really feeling too well right now and I…”

And suddenly all of his annoyance, all of his fear of what Eliott thinks of him and  _ them _ and everything else drops away and is replaced by worry. Worry only for Eliott’s wellbeing, because maybe Eliott is hurting or sick or having a hard time and Lucas didn’t know.

“Is he okay?” Lucas asks quickly.

Idriss looks at him tentatively, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “Yeah,” Idriss says finally. “Or he will be. He’s just tired, so I don’t know if now is the best time...”

And there’s something in Idriss face that makes the remaining pieces click into place because Lucas remembers this, remembers from the research he did right after Eliott told him. 

“Is, um,” Lucas pauses, unsure of exactly how to phrase it, exactly how to not be insensitive but still wanting to make sure. “Is it his bipolar?”

Idriss’ face changes and he stares at Lucas, slightly bewildered. “He told you?” he asks quietly. 

Lucas nods, “Yeah.”

Idriss smiles then, but it’s a small smile, a private smile that seems less about happiness and more like he’s realizing something. “Wait here,” he says. “I’m going to go talk to Eliott.”

Lucas stands in the hallway, waiting, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and all he can think is how much he hopes Eliott is okay, how much he wishes he’d known something was going on, how he’d managed to miss it. 

It takes a few minutes but then Idriss reappears from around the corner, and Eliott must have said something okay because Idriss is reaching out to pull the door open wider and ushering Lucas in. “He’s in his room,” Idriss says, pointing down the hall. Lucas smiles at him and goes.

He realizes suddenly that he’s not sure which one is Eliott’s room, that he’s never been in there before, but he pushes the thought down quickly when he sees that only one door in the hallway is shut, the other two leading to a bathroom and Idriss’ room.

Lucas walks up to the closed door and knocks lightly, waiting for a faint  _ come in _ , before he’s turning the knob and pushing the door open.

Lucas is hit by the relative darkness. It’s afternoon and a sunny day, but the curtains are all pulled tight, light bleeding in softly through the slightly gauzy material. The room is small, but that’s unsurprising for Paris, a dresser in one corner, drawers open halfway, and a small desk under one of the windows.

In the other corner is Eliott’s bed, a large double piled high with blankets and a lump in the middle Lucas assumes is Eliott. There’s a nightstand on one side that holds a lamp, a book, a glass of water and an uneaten piece of toast.

Lucas’ heart pinches.

“Hi,” Lucas says quietly, tentatively.

The lump moves slightly and then Eliott’s head appears from under the covers, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Come in here and shut the door,” he says, his voice croaking with disuse.

Lucas steps into the room and closes the door gently behind him, dropping his backpack from his shoulders and walking over to Eliott’s bed, sitting gently on the mattress. He takes in Eliott’s face looking back at him, the dark circles around his eyes, the way he’s laying, small and curled up on the bed.

“How are you doing?” Lucas asks, hoping it’s the right thing to say.

Lucas thinks Eliott shrugs, but he can’t really tell under the blankets.

“Better than yesterday,” Eliott says.

Lucas swallows, unsure of how to proceed. “Is there anything I can do?”

Eliott shakes his head. “No.” And then, “it’s nice to see you though.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Lucas replies, because it is, it’s always good to see Eliott, even if his heart is aching at how tired and small and sad Eliott looks. “I hadn’t heard from you in a few days,” he explains. “I just wanted to see if you were...uh, how you were doing.”

Eliott sighs. “I’m just having a couple bad days.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not an  _ episode _ ,” Eliott says quickly, as if he’s used to having to defend himself, but Lucas doesn’t say anything more than  _ okay _ again, wishing that he could reach out and brush the hair away from Eliott’s forehead. “Sometimes I just have a bad couple days.”

“That’s okay,” Lucas replies and he means it. All he wants is for Eliott to feel better.

They sit in silence for a moment in the dim room, the whirring of Eliott’s fan drowning out the noises outside. And it’s peaceful and quiet and safe and Lucas can understand why Eliott is seeking shelter here, weathering the storm here. 

“You don’t have to stay,” Eliott whispers.

“I can go if you want me to.”

“It’s just...I'm not very good company right now,” Eliott replies, pulling up the covers to his chin. “I’m doing a lot of sleeping.”

Lucas smiles. “I don’t mind.”

Eliott stares at him then, his eyes tired but searching, a storm of gray that Lucas longs to see settled, an indent on his face from where it’s been pressed into the pillow. And all Lucas can think is how beautiful he is, how lucky he is to have someone like Eliott in his life. 

“I don’t want you to stay because you feel like you have to,” Eliott says then, his voice even quieter than it was before.

“I’m not,” Lucas replies quickly. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit here with you. And you can sleep because I have some studying to do anyway.”

Lucas thinks he maybe sees a ghost of a smile on Eliott’s lips. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Lucas says and he goes to get his textbook from his bag before he turns around and finds Eliott’s moved over on the bed to make room for him. 

(And Lucas can’t help the way his stomach flutters, the way his heart swells, the way, despite all his efforts, the love in his chest expands so much he can hardly breathe with the weight of it.)

Lucas settles onto the bed, a pillow behind his back and Eliott lying next to him, and thinks Eliott has already fallen back asleep, his eyes closed, his face buried in the covers when he says something softly, muffled by the fabric.

“I thought you were avoiding me because of my painting,” Eliott says, “but you’re here.”

Lucas glances down at Eliott, heartbeat picking up as he tries to interpret what Eliott means by that, why Lucas would ever avoid him because of that, but at he stares down at Eliott’s form, sleep already overtaking him, he knows it’s not the time. Instead, he just reaches down and pulls the covers even tighter around Eliott. “I’m here,” he says.

***

Eliott wakes again a few hours later to find Lucas watching Netflix on his phone, slumped down farther in the pillows. 

“What time is it?” Eliott croaks and Lucas nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound.

“You’re awake!” he says and then stops whatever he’s watching to check the time. “Ah it’s almost 6.”

“Almost 6.”

“About dinner time,” Lucas muses. “Are you hungry?”

Eliott shifts slightly, bringing his body closer to Lucas’ but still far enough to keep them from touching. “Maybe a little.”

Lucas smiles. “I’ll go get you something, yeah?”

And he does.

Lucas gets Eliott something small and while he’s in the kitchen making it, Idriss passes by with a grateful look on his face and a whispered  _ how is he doing? _ and Lucas can’t help but feel warm that Eliott has people like that that care for him. He brings the food back into Eliott’s room and waits for Eliott to shift a little so he can eat it, joining him in the bed and eating too. It is dinner time after all.

Then Lucas suggests putting on a movie. “You can go back to sleep if you want,” he says, “but it just might be nice to have on.” Eliott’s whispered  _ okay _ is enough to have Lucas retrieving Eliott’s laptop from the desk and loading an old Disney movie just to make Eliott laugh.

“I’m sorry but none of your artsy crap,” Lucas teases, and Eliott lets out a small laugh from his pile of blankets. “We’re not using our brains today.”

And then they settle in, the opening sound of the movie playing, Eliott laying back down on the pillow next to him and they’re close but not quite touching, and for once, Lucas isn’t scared.

“I should probably go once this is over,” Lucas says, chancing a glance towards Eliott, whose eyes are fixed on the laptop. He says it quietly, as a precaution, in case Eliott falls asleep and Lucas isn’t here when he wakes up. “Is that okay?”

Eliott shifts his gaze to look at him. “Of course it’s okay.”

“Okay.”

But there’s something gripping his chest, and suddenly Lucas just wants to reach out and  _ touch _ , reach out and ground himself to Eliott  _ here _ , as they lay side by side and Eliott rides out the storm. But he can’t, not yet, not like this. It wouldn’t be fair.

Instead he settles for something he can do.

“Can I give you a hug?” he whispers and Eliott turns to him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Can I give you a hug? You know, like how you did for me that one time?”

The more Eliott looks at him, the more Lucas is regretting saying anything at all but then Eliott’s face is splitting into a soft smile and he’s looking, really looking at Lucas in a way Lucas isn’t used to.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

So Lucas shifts, pulling the hoodie more tightly around himself, putting the hood on and pulling on the ties a little, pulling the sleeves down over his hands. And Eliott shifts too, moving to sit up a bit, to settle in closer to Lucas. Lucas reaches out, wrapping his arms around Eliott’s neck and pulling him close, and Eliott’s arms find Lucas’ waist, wrapping securely around it. Eliott’s face tucks into Lucas’ neck, into the fabric that separates them and Lucas holds on.

He never wants to let go.

They hold each other as a moment passes and then another. And then Eliott whispers something into the space between Lucas’ neck and his shoulder and Lucas almost misses it, but not quite.

“Thank you for being here.”

There’s something raw in his voice, a hidden fear that Lucas hasn’t seen before, hasn’t been witness to, but is there all the same. And Lucas knows that despite everything he’s been telling himself, despite his best efforts, he might not ever stop loving Eliott. But, really, it might not be the worst thing.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he breathes back.

***

Lucas sees Manon the next day, another afternoon of drinking tea in her apartment that Lucas has come to love. They talk briefly about school and classes but Lucas is fidgety and Manon can always tell when something is going on with him.

“Okay, spill,” Manon says, nudging Lucas’ leg with her foot. “What’s going on with you?”

For a brief moment Lucas contemplates lying to her, telling her it’s nothing, but he knows, in the end, he won’t.

“Eliott,” he says softly, his stomach flipping at the mention of him.

Manon raises her eyebrow at him. “Eliott?”

“Yeah,” Lucas replies. “I’m in love with him.”

“Oh, Lucas.”

“But I can’t have him.”

“Why not?”

Lucas sighs, exasperated and long and drawn out. “Because he wants his soulmate, Manon, and I can’t be the person he’s with while he’s waiting.”

“How do you know you’re not his soulmate?” Manon asks, her voice low, her eyes searching Lucas’ face.

“The chances of that are astoundingly low.”

“But there’s a chance.”

Lucas wishes his heart didn’t pick up at the mere mention of that. Because he can’t let himself hope, can he? It might crush him if it turns out to be wrong. “Maybe, but, what if I’m not?”

“Would you still love him?”

“Yes,” Lucas replies. “Always.”

Manon smiles at him, a small smile she tends to reserve for times she thinks Lucas is being stubborn. “Then maybe you should give Eliott a chance to make that decision for himself.”

Lucas sighs. “So you think I should tell him?”

“I think it’ll hurt more if you don’t.”

***

It’s been a week since Eliott’s down days and Lucas has been texting him, checking in to make sure he’s alright. They’ve seen each other once during the week, when Lucas brought him some class notes and takeout and they’d sat on Eliott’s couch and watched a movie and it all felt like it had before.

But Lucas knows it can’t stay that way forever. Ever since his conversation with Manon, he knows he needs to talk to Eliott, needs to say something to him or he’s afraid he’ll never be able to move past it. And the last thing he needs is to get his heart broken in a year or two when Eliott finally finds his soulmate. If he’s getting his heart broken, it’s happening now.

He’s made plans with Eliott that weekend – grabbing coffee and homework and Lucas is planning to tell him then, he really is, but it seems like the universe isn’t quite done fucking with him just yet.

Instead, on Friday, when Lucas is dragged to yet another party with his friends, he sees Eliott there, noticing him after he’s already had a drink or two, sending butterflies soaring in his stomach.

Eliott had told Lucas he was planning on going out with Idriss, ready to blow off some steam after his hard time nearly a week ago, but Lucas hadn’t thought they’d end up at the  _ same _ party. Though now that he thinks about it, it shouldn’t be that surprising, seeing as they do run in the same social circles.

When Lucas sees him, Lucas is where he normally is at parties – hidden in a corner, beer in hand, hoodie pulled up around his face, sleeves pulled down so that no skin is visible. It’s a habit – one born out of self preservation and it’s yet to die.

Eliott...is not where he usually is at parties. Usually Eliott stations himself near the door, greeting as many people as he can as they walk in and or as they leave. It’s a good plan, for someone who wants to touch as many people as they can. But tonight Eliott has tucked himself in by the couch, surrounded by people Lucas vaguely recognizes as his friends from class, Idriss also standing there next to him.

It’s a sharp contrast to see Eliott like that – more quiet and subdued. Usually Eliott at parties is loud and bright and burning, the star at the center of a solar system. Lucas would know: he spent months hating him for it. But now, today, Eliott is more subdued. A star still, yes, burning just as brightly to Lucas, shining just as strong. But now it’s less like Eliott’s a puppet master and more like he’s letting the world move around him. And he’s  _ not _ touching people. If anything, he’s avoiding them. Lucas doesn’t know what to make of it.

Maybe it’s the beer talking, though really it was inevitable, but suddenly Lucas gets a surge of courage, and tells himself that the next time Eliott extracts himself from the crowd to go to the kitchen or the bathroom, Lucas will go over there, and make sure Eliott sees him, really  _ sees _ him. Hell, maybe he’ll just walk over and kiss him, throw words out the window.

His heart is beating fast and loud. 

Lucas watches as Eliott unfolds himself from the couch, his long legs stretching out as he takes one step and then another, moving around the crowd of people to the back of the couch, not yet seeing Lucas. Lucas feels his muscles itch, like they’re ready to take a step, move him towards Eliott.

And then someone familiar is walking up to Eliott, pressing a kiss to Eliott’s cheek and making Eliott throw back his head as he laughs. Lucille.

Lucas feels the panic well up again and suddenly all the confidence he’s been building the past few days vanishes. He’s being so stupid thinking someone like Eliott could ever love him, could ever even want him. Telling Eliott how he feels will just ruin what they do have, and that’s the last thing Lucas wants.

Lucas turns to leave, fight his way out of the party because he can’t be here anymore, can’t be forced to watch the boy he loves surrounded by people who are better for him, people he actually should be with.

But then he’s coming face to face with a body, connected to a face Lucas has seen before smirking down at him. Lucas recognizes him from one of his classes, thinks his name might be Todd, or Tom, or something like that, but they’ve never spoken before. Why would they?

“Excuse me,” Lucas says and he tries to maneuver around the guy, heading towards the exit, but then the guy throws out an arm, blocking Lucas’ path and Lucas flinches at how close his bare skin comes to him.

“Hey,” the boy slurs, leaning closer to Lucas and Lucas panics taking a step back. “I think we have a class together.”

“Maybe,” Lucas replies, looking around for an easy way to get out of this situation, but finding none as Todd or Tom takes a step closer. “Sorry I have to go–”

“You’re that kid who doesn’t let anyone touch him,” the boy says, triumphant. “You’re kind of hot.”

Lucas doesn’t reply, but something akin to fear wells up in him.

“What do you say you let me touch you, and then you can touch me?” the boy continues, his intentions obvious as he leans closer to Lucas’ face. 

“Please stop,” Lucas says, his voice weak, as he hugs his sweatshirt closer. “Please get away from me.”

“Oh come on baby,” the boy says again, reaching out a hand. “It’s just one touch.”

And Lucas freezes. He doesn’t know what to do, where to run. Instead, Lucas closes his eyes, flinching as the boy reaches out to touch his cheek.

And suddenly the shadow above him is gone.

“He said to leave him alone,” a voice says roughly, coming from beside Lucas. “I suggest you listen to him.” And Lucas knows that voice, he’ll always know that voice.

Lucas opens his eyes to find Eliott standing there, roughly holding the boy’s wrist from where he’s wrenched it away from Lucas’ face. The boy is grimacing in discomfort as Eliott holds his wrist at an uncomfortable angle.

“You’re gonna leave him alone,” Eliott says slowly, firmly. “And you’re going to apologize. Do you understand?”

The boy nods rapidly. “Jesus, yes, okay?” Seemingly satisfied, Eliott releases his wrist, and the boys snatches it back, rubbing it slightly as he turns towards Lucas. “Sorry,” he says and then he turns, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Eliott quickly turns towards him. “Are you okay?”

Lucas nods his head a little frantically. “Yes,” he says. And then– “Thank you.”

And it’s funny, because the last time Eliott did anything like this, the last time Eliott tried to protect him, it had pissed Lucas off so much he’d yelled at him on the streets of Paris, had burned the blood in his veins, had made him so inordinately angry he’d lashed out.

But this time, this time it’s different. Because standing here, seeing Eliott regard him with a gentle kind of worry, a gentle kind of affection that veers slightly too close to what Lucas wishes he was feeling, it  _ hurts _ . It sets an ache off in his chest and before he can stop them he feels tears pricking at his eyes.

And god, the  _ last _ thing he needs right now is for Eliott to see him cry, so he looks up, meeting Eliott’s gaze once who gives him a small, reassuring smile and then he’s pushing past him, muttering a  _ I have to go _ and running out onto the street.

He shouldn’t really be surprised when Eliott follows him.

Eliott shouts after him, but Lucas keeps his head down, willing his legs to carry him faster, his heart hurting so much that Lucas thinks maybe it’s started to break. But Eliott’s legs are longer than his and he’s determined, so Lucas doesn’t make it very far before Eliott catches up to him.

“Hey, hey,” Eliott says, reaching out and briefly touching Lucas’ clothed shoulder to make him stop. “Are you okay? What did that guy say?”

Lucas stops, and then spins around to face Eliott. “I’m not upset about the guy, Eliott. He was an asshole, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”

He turns to start walking again but Eliott jogs to catch up to him.

“Then what’s wrong?” Eliott asks. “Clearly something’s wrong.”

And Lucas has had enough of this. He can’t do this right now. “Isn’t Lucille waiting for you?” he spits out.

Eliott stops walking. “Lucille?” Eliott asks, something that seems like bewilderment lacing his tone. “Why are you talking about Lucille?

“Aren’t you with her?”

Eliott looks at him incredulously. “No?” He pauses. “I mean, we dated super briefly in high school, but no?” He just stands there, deflated. “Why are you asking?”

Lucas shrugs, turning to face Eliott. “No reason.”

“We broke up when I started getting serious about the whole soulmate thing,” Eliott says, running a hand through his hair. “But I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about that and I’m not sure it makes sense anymore.”

Lucas feels like he might throw up. “ _ Not _ being with Lucille, you mean?”

Eliott looks so genuinely confused that something in Lucas’ chest kickstarts. “What? No god, we weren’t right for each other in the end,” Eliott says, his voice shaking, a sincere tenor running through it. “I mean it was good once, but...no, I, uh, I’m never getting back together with Lucille.”

It’s Lucas’ turn to look confused. “What did you mean then?”

“About soulmates,” Eliott says, his voice quiet. He pauses for a moment, eyes searching Lucas’ before he speaks again. “I’m just worried that I might be missing out on something great by focusing so much on it.”

“Okay,” Lucas says, unsure how this has to do with him.

Eliott takes a step closer. “The thing is, I was convinced that a soulmark would be  _ the _ way for me to know that I deserved love, that the universe wanted me to love,” he says, taking a deep breath. “But, I’ve realized recently that there’s a lot of love in my life that the universe didn’t mark. And it’s still special. To me.”

Lucas doesn’t know what to say. Of course Eliott deserves love, of course people would love him. Lucas is living proof. His heart thuds louder and he just stands there, silent, waiting for Eliott to continue.

Eliott takes another tentative step towards him. “If I’m meant to be with my soulmate, then I will be. But maybe my soulmate is platonic, or maybe I don’t have one at all. And maybe it doesn’t matter. But I’m done waiting.” He looks at Lucas, and there’s something there behind the flashing in his eyes. “What about you?”

Lucas swallows. “What about me?”

“What are you waiting for?”

“You know I’ve never been a fan of waiting on the universe.”

Eliott lets out a small laugh, but it seems to get stuck in his throat and he hasn’t looked away from Lucas, looking at him with an intensity Lucas has never seen before. “And if you didn’t have to wait?” he asks, softly, but Lucas hears every word, his whole body tensing. “If you found someone who would choose you regardless? Would that be enough for you?”

And Lucas can’t do this, his mind is going blank, his brain is shutting down because they cannot be having this conversation, this cannot be what Lucas has been imagining. He has to be understanding something wrong but Eliott is looking at him, really looking at him and Lucas feels like he’s ripped open his chest and laid it bare for Eliott to see.

But then he’s reminded of the worry that’s been plaguing him since his realization. He knows Eliott, knows how this all has been so important to him for so long. But here he is saying it’s maybe not as important as he thought and so Lucas should take that leap, but he needs to know, needs to lay it all out and hear it from Eliott. 

“Would it be enough for  _ you _ ?” he asks.

“Yes,” Eliott says weakly and without hesitation. “I’m beginning to think so.”

Lucas doesn’t know what to say. Instead he huffs and turns, heading back down the street. He picks up his pace, as Eliott trails just behind him.

“You never answered,” Eliott calls out to him and Lucas feels his heart constrict because this is it, this is an opening Eliott is giving him and Lucas should just take it. 

He turns to look back at Eliott’s face, his mouth frozen in a tentative smile, the corners turned up in the way that makes Lucas’ heart race. 

He opens his mouth and he’s about to answer, he really is:  _ yes, Eliott, that would be enough _ , when it all happens in very quick succession.

Lucas isn’t paying attention to where he’s going and trips on a loose brick in the sidewalk, pitching forward towards the concrete. He feels Eliott’s strong hand grip his wrist to keep him from falling, to steady him, but the foreign feeling of Eliott’s fingers against Lucas’ skin sets his heart aflame.

Lucas has been doing everything he can to avoid touching Eliott, avoid brushing skin against skin, avoid knowing what they’d be – because he is terrified of the answer. He’s in love with Eliott, he knows, and he’s spent far too many nights in the past week imagining Eliott marking him in shades of red. The idea that he might leave a blue mark on his skin or worse, no mark at all, makes Lucas feel sick. 

And yet, despite all that effort, here he is – finding out if Eliott is his soulmate because he’s clumsy. It’s a bit anticlimactic.

It happens quickly – Lucas falling, Eliott catching him.

And then Lucas hears Eliott inhale sharply. Eliott has pulled Lucas to his feet, but hasn’t let go of his wrist, of the space where their skin is touching for the first time. Lucas can’t turn around, he can’t look. He wants to live in that space of blissful ignorance for just one more second.  _ Just one more second. _

“Lucas…” Eliott says, but it’s more of a whisper, so soft and feather-light that Lucas can’t be sure he’s heard it at all. 

“Lucas.” There it is again, firmer. Eliott calling his name. Eliott daring him to look.

And then the anticipation meets with Lucas’ denial and it’s too much really, the not-knowing. So he turns around.

And there, at the space where Eliott’s fingers are grasped around Lucas’ wrist, Lucas sees something spreading across his skin. It doesn’t move far outside of Eliott’s grip, but it’s enough that Lucas can see it there, see the light it’s giving off in the dark night as Lucas and Eliott stand frozen on the sidewalk.

And there’s relief, in Lucas’ heart, because Eliott has left something on his wrist, has made his mark after all. But there’s confusion too. Lucas and Eliott are silent, both of them unable to tear their eyes away from the place that Eliott’s fingers have touched.

“Is that...?” Lucas asks, trailing off, his voice sounding weak and unsure.

“It must be,” Eliott responds. “But I’ve never seen that before.”

Because the shape marking Lucas’ skin is neither red, like the mark of a romantic soulmate, nor blue, like the mark of a platonic one.

It’s gold. Bright, shining, radiant gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😉
> 
> kudos and comments much appreciated y'all 💛💛
> 
> come yell at/with me on tumblr [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first thing's first, I just want to say thank you so so much for all your incredible support after the last chapter. i was floored by the response and i'm so incredibly grateful for all your kind words and enthusiasm for this story 💛
> 
> this chapter was supposed to have more in it, but then it started getting long so we're stopping here. only one more chapter (and maybe an epilogue? idk haven't completely decided yet) to go!! I CANNOT believe it.
> 
> also just wanted to let you know my notes for this chapter said: *we’ve reached the lovers stage bitches* at the top so lmao...enjoy!!

_ "Nature’s first green is gold” _ _  
_ _ – Robert Frost _

Lucas panics. And really how could he not? He can feel the blood rush in his ears, can feel his eyes grow wider as he stares at the mark spreading across his skin. 

He roughly wrenches his wrist out of Eliott’s hand and takes a step back, holding his wrist with his other hand gingerly, as though he’s been burned.

“Lucas…” Eliott says then, softly, like he’s trying not to scare off a wild animal. He takes a tentative step towards Lucas.

Lucas flinches. “Stay there,” he says, louder than he means to and Eliott halts abruptly where he stands, freezing with his arms hanging uselessly by his sides.

“I’m so sorry Lucas,” Eliott says, his voice strained and weak. “It was an accident, a reflex. You were falling and I just reached out– and, I’m so sorry…”

Lucas’ heart is pounding so loud in his chest that Eliott’s voice sounds far away. Lucas can barely hear it. But he hears the apologies, he hears the sadness and he knows– Eliott doesn’t want this.

Lucas is still looking down at his wrist, refusing to look up and see the disappointment in Eliott’s eyes when the first tear falls, leaving a hot trail down his cheek, dropping onto his wrist– onto his _ mark _. The gold stays: strong and brilliant and unwavering. He’s not sure his heart can take it.

And Eliott is still talking, his voice carrying through the fog in Lucas’ brain. 

“I know this is exactly what you were trying to avoid,” he’s saying, and Lucas can see he hasn’t moved since Lucas told him not to come near. “I wanted to do this differently, believe me. I wanted to make sure you had a choice. I’m sorry, Lucas, really…”

In the haze, Lucas’ brain takes a minute to process the words coming out of Eliott’s mouth and the order in which he’s saying them. But it catches up. It gets there. And Lucas stills.

“What?” Lucas looks up to meet Eliott’s eyes, finding something frantic and worried there, and yet something gentle.

Eliott blinks. “I said I’m sorry–”

“No, I know. The other thing.”

Eliott shakes his head. “I don’t…”

Lucas can barely speak with the way his heart is in his throat, but he has to, has to repeat Eliott’s words back to him, force him to hold them out in the open, take ownership of them. “You said… you said you wanted to do _ this _ differently.” He takes a shaky breath. “What does that mean?”

Eliott gives him a small smile, shaky, watery, like he’s waiting for Lucas to run at any moment. “Touch you,” he whispers.

Lucas feels like he’s falling. A sharp pang shoots through his chest as the tendrils of something take root, _ hope _, sprouting and blossoming as Eliott looks at him.

“You wanted to touch me?” Lucas breathes out.

“I had a feeling.”

If Lucas thought he couldn’t breathe before, he really can’t breathe now. He absentmindedly runs a finger over his marked wrist. He doesn’t know what to say, but there are tears in his eyes, and his heart is a mess of fragile emotions flurrying together in a storm and he’s never felt so off-balance and yet so at peace at the same time.

“About me? You had a feeling about me?”

Eliott nods. “Yes.”

Lucas feels frozen. Torn between wanting to run towards Eliott and wanting to run away. It’s so much, too much almost, to hear Eliott starting to say the things he’s been hoping for while he also feels the warmth on his wrist, knowing what lies there. The thing he never thought he could have.

“But Lucas…” Eliott pauses, his voice breaking through the storm in Lucas’ mind. “Shit. This is not the order I wanted to do this. Lucas, listen. It wouldn’t have mattered, okay? It wouldn’t have mattered.”

Eliott looks at him with a kind of frantic desperation and Lucas is still processing, going through the motions, trying to listen and also calm the uneven beating of his heart. “I don’t understand.”

“Lucas, I’m in love with you,” Eliott blurts, his face freezing like the words have escaped before he’d worked up the courage to say them. But then he sighs, gaze heavy and leveled at Lucas. “Have been, for quite a while actually. And I hoped, _ god _ I hoped that you would be my soulmate. But I didn’t know and that scared me. I didn’t expect to fall in love and not know.” His face twists, a tender smile etched there. “And then there you were. And I realized that it didn’t matter to me if you were my soulmate or not because I knew that I loved you. That I _ love _ you.”

Oh. _ Oh _. “You love me?” Lucas’ voice sounds like the wind has been knocked out of him, which it has, in a way.

Eliott gives him a sheepish smile and shrugs, a simple lift of his shoulders, a tilt of his head – a testament, perhaps, to how simple the fact is. “How could I not?”

Lucas is fully crying now. “Fuck…” he whispers, his heart clenching tight because there’s a part of him that’s convinced he’s hallucinating. “Hold on.”

Eliott’s face falters. “Oh.”

And Lucas can’t have that. “No! That’s not what I…” he breathes in deep, staring back at Eliott whose eyes have shifted to look at the sidewalk instead of him. “I’m in love with you too,” Lucas whispers.

Eliott’s head whips up and a grin splits across his face, wider and more brilliant than Lucas has ever seen before. Eliott takes a step and then another towards Lucas and they’re getting closer and closer and Lucas wants to give in. He wants to fall into Eliott’s arms and forget about the rest of it, high off the knowledge that Eliott loves him like he loves Eliott. Drunk on knowing he could have him if he wanted.

But there’s something still pricking in his mind, the thing that made it hard to focus on Eliott, hard to focus on anything else. And it’s loud, demanding to be heard, as Lucas stands, wrist still held near his body. It can’t be that simple. Of course it could never be that simple. Eliott is coming closer, but Lucas can’t do this, he can’t fall without thinking, he can’t touch without knowing why.

“Wait!” Lucas shouts, his arm raised in front of him.

Eliott stops abruptly. “What’s wrong?”

“I just..are we sure?” He gestures down at his wrist. He takes a deep breath. “It’s the wrong color Eliott.”

Eliott looks at him with fierce eyes, his mouth set strong, his voice measured. “But it still looks like a soulmark,” he says. And then: “Does it feel wrong?”

And what is Lucas supposed to say except the truth – that the moment Eliott touched him a warmth spread through his body so deep and so far that even in the middle of a chilly winter night, Lucas forgot what it meant to be cold. 

“No,” he replies.

“Then I say it means whatever we want it to mean,” Eliott says, gingerly taking another step. “It’s _ gold _, Lucas. How could that mean something bad?”

“Just...what if it’s not..._ that _.”

“I don’t care.” Eliott is still moving, so close now that Lucas could reach out and touch him if he wanted. But he knows that when he does, if the mark is what he suspects, it’ll leave something lasting behind. Eliott stops and looks down at Lucas, who has to tilt his head back slightly to meet his eyes. “To me,” Eliott says, voice low, “it means you’re my soulmate. What does it mean to you?”

And there’s something in Eliott’s voice that calms him down. Takes his frantic racing heart and slows it to a gentle nervous beat. The one that’s always held Eliott’s name, the pace that always starts when Eliott is near. “Well let’s see,” Lucas says softly, “I still have to touch you.”

Eliott smirks at him. “If you say so,” he says, leaning closer as Lucas takes a step back.

“Slow down there,” Lucas says with an affectionate laugh. “Do you want your soulmark on your face? Give me a second.”

Eliott smiles at him deviously. “I just want to kiss you.”

“Shit,” Lucas groans. “Just. _ Hold. On. _” He moves closer to Eliott, hand outstretched towards him. “Pull back your shirt collar,” he whispers.

“What?” Eliott looks at him with wide eyes.

Lucas raises an eyebrow. “I don’t want to put it somewhere obnoxious,” he says. “I want you to be able to cover it up if it ends up not being what we think.”

“It _ is _ what we think,” Eliott says firmly. And then he’s smirking again. “And what if I want to show it off?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “You and I both know you have a fondness for leaving your buttons undone. Now do it.”

Eliott reaches up to his shirt collar, several of his buttons undone even now, and he moves it to the side, exposing the skin on the left side of his chest, just beneath the collar bone.

“Stay still,” Lucas whispers, and then he’s reaching out his hand, fingertips gently moving towards Eliott’s skin. Both of them take a deep breath and forget to release it. 

And they’re standing on a sidewalk in the middle of winter, breaths coming out in puffs of air and tears on both their faces, a bright moon somehow visible above the apartment buildings around them, casting everything in an otherworldly glow.

And Lucas touches him.

He spreads his hand across Eliott’s chest, the tips of his fingers grazing Eliott’s collarbone, his palm spreading across smooth, warm skin and coming to rest over Eliott’s heart and he can feel how fast it’s beating, the way Eliott’s heart races.

They’re looking at each other, almost as if they’re as afraid to look as they were a few minutes ago, scared of what they’ll find.

They both look down at the same time, eyes leaving each other to travel down to the space where Lucas’ hand is pressed against Eliott’s chest.

Lucas lets out the breath he forgot he was holding. 

Because there on Eliott’s chest, on Eliott’s _ heart _, is the shape of Lucas’ touch, left behind in shining, splendid gold.

“I’d say that confirms it–” Eliott starts to say but then Lucas is reaching out, grasping the sides of Eliott’s face and crashing their lips together.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s a fire started and immediately raging. A single spark turning into devastation. Their lips slide together in a hungry rush, soft and sweet and more than Lucas could have possibly imagined. Eliott’s hands find Lucas’ face, tilting it just enough, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip and Lucas is gone, so enraptured he can’t think of anything else.

He shifts, moving his arms down to wrap firmly around Eliott’s waist, bringing him closer, holding him tight as they sway on the spot, Eliott kissing him hungrily as he tries not to fall.

But it’s too late for that. It’s the falling that got them here.

Eliott shifts back, breaking the kiss, and Lucas is horrified for a moment at the whine that escapes him as he chases his lips. But at the sight of Eliott’s smile, everything else fades away.

Eliott presses their foreheads together, softly sweetly, his thumbs caressing Lucas’ cheeks as he stares at them, at the golden trails they must be leaving behind, sparking across his face for a moment and then gently fading away. 

“I can’t believe I get to do this now,” Eliott whispers, mesmerized, it seems, by the shapes he’s creating. He pulls back slightly, but only just enough to be able to look Lucas in the eyes. “So you’re not disappointed?” he asks, and there’s a tender insecurity there, one that Lucas is surprised to hear. 

“Disappointed?” Lucas repeats, incredulous. “How could I ever be disappointed...when it’s you?”

The smile Eliott gives him is blinding – bright and shining, Lucas’ golden boy. His heart clenches, knowing that this is his now, that he gets to have this, _ Eliott _, if he lets himself.

“And you?” Lucas asks, “You’re not disappointed either?”

“Remember the day we were putting up the stars for Imane?” Eliott asks. “I meant it when I said whoever your soulmate is is a lucky guy.” He smooths a thumb over the back of Lucas’ hand, trails of glowing gold following the path his thumb is tracing. Lucas hopes Eliott never stops touching him. 

“Really?”

Eliott’s hand comes up to Lucas’ cheek to cup his face, his fingers tracing over his cheekbone. He steps close again and Lucas can feel the warmth radiating off his body, enveloping him like a blanket.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Eliott says, his breath ghosting over Lucas’ face.

“I’m glad it’s you too,” Lucas replies.

Eliott answers with the smile and then his hand is moving around the back of Lucas’ neck, pulling him to him. And they’re kissing again. 

***

Lucas doesn’t know how these things go, what you’re supposed to do when you finally find your soulmate after all the time you spent searching. He doesn’t know if there’s a protocol or an expected order. In all honesty, he’d tuned out most of the soulmate stuff his friends talked about, never thinking that he’d get to experience it.

But what he does know is that he wants to be close to Eliott, wants to touch him, hold him, now that he finally can. He tells Eliott as much and Eliott’s only response is to kiss him again, deeply, and it takes a few moments before Lucas’ brain starts working again.

So he invites Eliott back to his place, knowing that it will be several hours before Yann will be home. And Lucas wants to be around Eliott without questions, without weird expectations. Wants to navigate whatever this is with Eliott only before he has to explain it to other people. So he takes Eliott’s hand, blushing when he sees the gold shining between their palms and drags him through the Paris streets behind him, luckily not running into anyone, until they reach his apartment. 

Climbing stairs is slow going when you stop every few steps laughing or kissing. Lucas feels like his heart is threatening to burst out of his chest every time Eliott looks at him, because there’s something there. Something that’s been there for a while, but Lucas hadn’t recognized. Something like longing, something like love.

They finally make it to his apartment and it takes a moment for Lucas to get the door unlocked with Eliott pressed up behind him, holding him close and placing kisses just below his ear. Lucas’ head swims with it. Swims with Eliott.

The door has barely closed behind them before Eliott is on him. At first Lucas tries to keep up the playing, gently swatting Eliott’s chest and turning his head, before Eliott takes control and grabs Lucas’ neck, pulling him in for a searing kiss.

Lucas sways on the spot, melting into Eliott and the feeling of his mouth, the feeling on his fingers, and his firm hold on his face that he has been craving for so long, but had been too scared to try.

But now that Lucas can touch him, hold him, kiss him back, it’s hard to stay away.

Lucas pulls back slightly, resting the back of his head against the door Eliott has so greedily pressed him up against. He keeps their faces close but brings his hand up to gently run his fingers along Eliott’s face, reveling in the golden trail he leaves behind.

Eliott is his soulmate. Despite his initial panic at the foreign color they left behind, it feels right. And he still delights in watching every time his touch confirms it. 

Eliott sighs into Lucas’ touch, looking into his eyes with a kind desperate fire that Lucas isn’t sure he’ll ever be used to having directed at him. He continues to trace lazy patterns on Eliott’s cheeks, down his neck, and towards the collar of his shirt, watching as the skin lights up in gold and slowly fades away. He pulls gently at Eliott’s shirt, wanting to look again at the golden outline of his palm over Eliott’s heart. It’s something Lucas is sure he’ll never grow tired of seeing.

Eliott smirks but reaches down to pull his shirt up, to let Lucas revel in the shape he’s left behind, the fabric nearly falling to the floor before Lucas catches it in one hand, grabbing Eliott’s hand in the other.

“Maybe not in the hallway,” he laughs, and he drags Eliott towards his room.

***

They lie in bed after, holding each other close, arms and legs wrapped around each other and tangled together so closely it’s hard to tell what belongs to who.

Lucas revels in the feeling of Eliott’s skin against his own as Eliott moves slightly to pull the blankets around them and settle in more comfortably.

“I’ve always liked this hoodie,” Eliott hums as he pulls it out from under him and tosses it gently to the floor.

“I know,” Lucas remembers. Eliott had told him that more than once. He reaches out to brush a featherlight touch across Eliott’s cheek, igniting it for a moment in a shower of gold. He can’t bite back the smile that he gets to do that now. That he gets to touch Eliott, that he’s _ meant _ to touch Eliott. “Why?”

“It was the perfect contradiction,” he says, smiling at Lucas and leaning into his touch. “The boy who hates soulmates wearing a hoodie with _ romance _ written across the front.”

Lucas blushes. “It’s soft. And I was never against the _ romance _.”

“Ah, needed someone to come and sweep you off your feet did you?” Eliott teases.

“Look who stepped up to the task.”

Eliott chuckles, his fingertips trailing down his arm. “Couldn’t help it,” Eliott says. “You’re cute.”

Lucas blushes harder.

The night rolls on, the darkness outside normally a bit suffocating, but here, wrapped in Eliott’s arms, Lucas feels safe, feels warm, feels like he doesn’t need anything else. Like he could just fall asleep as he is, lying here, with Eliott close.

“You know,” Eliott says, his voice lying heavy in the soft air, making Lucas only want nuzzle closer. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t want me like this.”

Lucas nearly scoffs. “As if that could be possible.”

Eliott lets out a small laugh, but it sounds quiet, far off. He lifts his hand to brush the hair off Lucas’ forehead, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “That’s why it took me so long to tell you,” he whispers, lips moving against Lucas’ skin. 

“What are you talking about?” Lucas moves back only enough so he can look at Eliott’s face.

“I guess I should come clean then,” he says, Lucas only raising an eyebrow at him. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but I’ve liked you for longer. Since the first moment I saw you I think.”

Lucas shakes his head a little in disbelief, can’t believe that this boy in front of him is saying things like that to _ him _ and means them. “At Imane’s party? I was kind of an asshole that night.”

Eliott laughs, real and loud, bringing him in and kissing him, hard, on the mouth.

“You really were,” he whispers, his breath fanning over Lucas’ face. “But no, I actually saw you before then. My first year at uni actually, one day when I was home on break and you were studying with Imane.”

Lucas feels all the air leave his lungs.

“I had gone to the kitchen to get something to drink and you were getting all frustrated over some homework problem, and I caught a glimpse of you, just a glimpse, and all I could think was you were the most mesmerizing person I’d ever seen,” Eliott says.

Lucas doesn’t know what to say. So, instead he leans in and kisses Eliott again, slow and deep, pulling him close, hoping Eliott can feels the words he wishes he could string together through the pressure of his lips. Eliott sighs into it and Lucas thinks he understands.

“I kept pestering Imane to introduce us once I decided to come back,” Eliott goes on. “I was trying to make a good impression on you that night at their party and then you called me out on touching all those people and I knew you were a fire to be reckoned with.”

Lucas gapes at him. “I was a jerk.”

“A cute jerk.”

Lucas rolls his eyes.

Another space of time passes. Lucas isn’t sure what time it is, doesn’t really care to be honest. It’s not hard to forget everything else here, in his bed, soft breaths mingling with Eliott’s, their lips pressing together in lazy kisses when they feel like it, just lying there, enjoying each other when they don’t.

“Do you think you’d still love me in a universe without soulmates?” Lucas asks, his voice now breaking through their comfortable silence. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like in an alternate universe where soulmates aren’t a thing, where you have to choose and then trust your choice, where you’re can’t ever know for sure, do you think we’d still be together like this?”

Lucas has to ask. It’s a world he’s dreamed out for too long, one that’s played a part in both his daydreams and his nightmares. But he wants to know what Eliott thinks. If Eliott thinks in a universe where they would just have to see each other, know each other, say “that’s the one” and stick with it, would they? Does Eliott think they would?

Eliott pulls him close then, bringing his mouth ghosting over Lucas’ ear, a hand grasping his waist firmly. “I think we’re soulmates in every universe. Even the ones where they don’t mark them.”

And that’s enough. For now, that’s enough.

Eventually, as sleep starts to weigh on Lucas’ eyes, he knows they need to talk about one last thing before Lucas can let it take over, can let himself drift off, soothed by the warmth of Eliott’s body near him.

“What are we going to do,” Lucas starts, his voice sounding far away, “about the soulmate stuff?”

“What do you mean?” Eliott asks him, stifling a yawn.

“Well, do we tell people?”

“What do you want to do?”

Lucas smiles, small, pressing the shape of it into Eliott’s collarbone. “Can it be ours for a little while? Just give me a change to sort this all out. I need time to process it. Not process _ you _ , but process the soulmate stuff. I was so against it for so long that it feels weird. Like I want you, obviously, but...I still feel the pressure of _ soulmates _, you know? And the gold…” he trails off. “I need some time.”

Eliott shifts under him, pulling Lucas’ body on top of him, his arm wrapping around Lucas’ waist. “Take all the time you need,” he whispers, “as long as I can still kiss you in here.”

Lucas giggles, kissing Eliott just below his ear. “You know I won’t say no to that.”

And then they sleep. And for the first time in a long time, Lucas doesn’t need to rely on tricks, pull from his arsenal of well-practiced techniques to get his eyes to close, his brain to quiet. It seems, in the end, all he needed was Eliott.

***

Lucas wakes to strong arms wrapped around his waist, Eliott’s chest pressed against his back and Eliott’s nose in his hair. For a split second, Lucas almost panics, his muscles tense and his breath stops at the foreign feeling of skin against his own, at waking up to another’s touch.

But then he feels Eliott’s breath, slow and even, on the back of his neck and there’s something infinitely calming about it–about being so close to Eliott, about having him in his space, and Lucas relaxes.

He lies there for a moment, taking in the feelings as his mind wakes up, as his thoughts collect and come back to him. It looks like a beautiful winter morning, the sun rising late to a clear sky, shining through the curtains a bit, setting the room alight in a soft golden glow. Strangely, he thinks, it feels like a dream. And not just any dream, but the one he’s been having for months. He can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face.

Lucas shifts in Eliott’s sleep-heavy arms, turning his body slightly to move his arm outside of the covers. He smiles to himself, moving his arm towards the one Eliott has around his waist and reaches out, tentative fingertips ghosting across the back of Eliott’s hand. Lucas’ heart takes off at the sight of the gold following the path he’s tracing, leaving brief circles and swirls on the back of it before gently fading away.

Lucas can’t believe his touch can do this, can’t believe he gets to do this.

Eliott shifts slightly behind Lucas, his breath catching, pulling him out of the gentle rhythm of sleep. Lucas hears him exhale behind him, long and content, before his arm tightens around Lucas, pulling him closer.

“Morning,” Eliott whispers into his hair. Lucas feels himself blush.

“Morning,” Lucas replies, surprising himself with the raspy tone of his voice, still coated in sleep. Lucas sighs contentedly and then moves in Eliott’s arms, turning around so he can face him.

Lucas’ breath catches in his throat at the sight of him, Eliott, eyes half-closed as he wakes up, hair disheveled and falling down on his forehead, a bashful grin playing at the corner of his lips. He’s beautiful, Lucas has always known that, but now he’s _ here _ , in Lucas’ bed with _ him _, and Lucas isn’t quite sure how he managed to deserve this.

He can’t stop himself from reaching out to stroke Eliott’s cheek, pulling him close for a kiss. And it may be quick, but Lucas pulls Eliott close and kisses him deep and hard. Eliott, apparently, isn’t satisfied. He leans in and kisses Lucas again, once, twice, a third time for good measure. When they finally part, foreheads pressed together, Lucas can’t help but keep his eyes closed, relishing in the moment for a second. 

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” Lucas whispers, and even though he was thinking it, he didn’t quite mean to say it out loud. That’s what happens, he guesses, when you can get drunk on kisses. But it’s true, and Lucas ignores the rushing feeling in his stomach at his honestly.

Eliott laughs, but it’s light, gentle, just barely rising above the haziness in the room. “You have no idea,” he groans out, pressing his lips to Lucas’ forehead.

Lucas can’t help but reach out and wrap his arm around Eliott’s waist, pulling him closer, so they lie wrapped in each other. Lucas feels like he’d be content to stay here forever.

Except...they both hear when there’s the sound of pans rattling in the kitchen, the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing, and Lucas realizes with a start that Yann is home. Eliott must feel the way he tenses, because he strokes his thumb across Lucas’ cheek and leans in close. 

“I know you don’t want to tell people yet,” Eliott says, his voice calm and comforting. “It’s okay, really. I can just stay in here until he leaves.”

And any other Lucas, any other Lucas whose heart isn’t threatening to burst out of his chest, whose happiness and disbelief wasn’t radiating out of every pore, would probably have taken Eliott up on his offer. He probably would have hidden Eliott away for at least a little while longer, scared of what the unknown marks meant, even from someone like Yann. 

And yet– this Lucas is dying to let Yann know he was right all along, to tell him he followed his advice, that it all worked out, consequences be damned.

“No,” Lucas replies, “I want him to know. About us.”

Eliott’s smile is blinding.

“Just,” he continues, “maybe not the soulmate thing right now. Just until we know more.”

Eliott only nods, his smile still there on his face. “Whatever you want,” he says.

Lucas sighs, not wanting to leave the comfortable cocoon they’ve created in here, but also not wanting to miss Yann before he leaves for work (which Lucas is sure is the only reason he’s up before noon after a night out).

“Do you want breakfast?”

Lucas exits his room after pulling on a sweatshirt and an old pair of sweatpants, with strict instructions to Eliott to wait to come out until he’s managed to talk to Yann.

He walks towards the kitchen where he can hear Yann moving around, the coffee maker going. He steps through the doorway and Yann looks up in surprise.

“Hey dude,” he says, taking down a mug from the cabinet. “Didn’t expect to see you up so early. Want some coffee?”

Lucas nods, his throat suddenly dry, even knowing what he wants to say, knowing that Eliott is waiting in the hallway for him to speak.

Lucas accepts the coffee from Yann with slightly shaking hands and Yann gives him a look, one that Lucas knows means _ what’s going on _?

Yann leans against the counter. “So, uh, is everything okay?” Yann asks, taking a sip from his mug. “I know you left the party early yesterday and by the time I got home your light was off so I assumed you just went to bed.”

Lucas nods, knowing he can’t avoid the inevitable.

“Actually,” he starts and Yann turns to him, “I may have taken your advice.”

Yann raises an eyebrow at him and puts the mug down on the counter. “Oh?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“About what?”

“About Eliott.”

Yann’s eyes widen like he doesn’t quite know what to say and Lucas can tell from the way he purses his lips that the last thing he wants is to say the wrong thing, to get excited before Lucas has confirmed it.

“And?” 

“Uh, well, he’s here,” Lucas says, flinching. It’s not exactly how he intended to get his point across, but it gets the job done.

Yann’s mouth drops open.

“Yeah, uh, hi.” Lucas hears from behind him and then Eliott is walking into the kitchen, wearing one of Lucas’ hoodies and Lucas’ heart swells so big it nearly bursts from his chest. Eliott comes to stand just next to Lucas, running a hand through his hair, smiling meekly at Yann.

“Lucas,” Yann says, his voice coming out weak. “Do not take this the wrong way, but what the _ actual _ fuck?”

And then they’re all laughing, collapsing in a fit of giggles as the smell of coffee fills the air and the gentle morning sun streams into the kitchen. Lucas wants, more than anything, to reach out to Eliott, feel his touch, his skin against his own, now that he finally can. And he moves to, for a moment, to take Eliott’s hand and hold it proudly for Yann to see but he stops himself, knowing that Yann would quickly see the _ other _ part of this, and Lucas isn’t sure he’s managed to wrap his head around that enough yet. He turns back to Yann.

“So the two of you talked it out then?” Yann asks, smiling at them.

Lucas nods. “Yeah, we did.” He looks back at Eliott who shoots him a small smile.

“And I was right?” Yann asks.

“You were,” Eliott confirms and they all laugh. And it’s easy and Yann looks so happy for him, for them, and Lucas is still a little confused as to how this is all happening. 

Yann shakes his head affectionately. “Well, you two, Lucas here might have given me a headache, but I’m glad–”

“We’re also soulmates,” Lucas blurts out before he can stop himself, clapping a hand over his mouth as he realizes what he just said. But, apparently, he can’t keep it in, can’t stop himself from sharing.

“Lucas!” Eliott scolds and he’s looking at him slightly bewildered but also endeared and he’s laughing now, fully-bodied and loud and Lucas can’t help but laugh too, shrugging as if to say _ what did you expect? _

For the second time today, Lucas leaves Yann speechless. He stares at them for a moment before grasping the counter to steady himself.

“You two, you’re..?”

“Soulmates, yeah.”

Yann groans. “Of course you are.”

Lucas grins innocently, knowing he’s not done. “Also, there’s this.” He pulls back the sleeve of his sweatshirt and shows Yann the mark on his wrist.

Yann looks like he might pass out.

“But Lucas,” he says quietly, “that’s–”

“Gold, yeah,” Lucas replies. “We’re trying to figure out what it means. So if you have any ideas…”

He trails off and Yann just continues to stare at them as Eliott takes a step forward and then takes Lucas’ hand in his own, interlacing their fingers together and then pressing a quick kiss to Lucas’ temple. Yann’s eyes dart to where their skin meets, to where the gold is swirling bright and proud.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” Yann says weakly, before taking a deep breath. And Lucas almost doesn’t hear it as he mutters under his breath, “You two will be the death of me, I swear.”

***

Imane looks at him like she knows. Or knows something at least. He’s sitting across from her at the coffee shop a few days later, books spread out between them. Lucas tries to concentrate, tries to look down at the pages spread out in front of him and focus on what he’s supposed to be learning, but Imane is just looking at him, tapping her pencil against the pages of her textbooks. Lucas can’t help but look up at the sound, watching the movement as Imane stares him down.

“So I saw something interesting the other day,” Imane starts, eyeing Lucas, who’s pretending not to notice.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was visiting my brother before class as I sometimes do and I could have _ sworn _ I saw someone leaving his apartment building that looks a lot like _ you _.”

Lucas jolts, the breath catching in his throat. _ Shit _. He remembers that morning. Eliott had invited Lucas over after class, and it wasn’t like Lucas was going to say no to that. He was planning to leave before Idriss got home, but then they’d fallen asleep watching a movie in Eliott’s bed, the soothing rhythm of Eliott’s hand running up and down his back lulling Lucas to sleep, and when they’d finally woken up in the morning, Lucas had had to slip out before Idriss noticed he was there.

All in all, it had been a very stressful experience. 

But this, _ this _, Imane staring at him, Lucas feeling caught, is much more stressful. Because Lucas doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell her, he does, but there’s something that keeps getting caught in his chest everytime he goes to open his mouth about all of this. 

It’s not Eliott. If he could just tell Imane about Eliott, he’d be shouting it from the rooftops, forcing everyone to pay attention, even if he doesn’t know them. Because he’s managed to get Eliott, _ Eliott _, and who wouldn’t want to brag about that?

But it wouldn’t just be about Eliott. It never is. The minute he confesses to something about Eliott, he knows he’ll probably have to explain about the touch too. And he could lie, say that Eliott’s touch left nothing behind, that they’re going to try anyway, but it feels like a lie, and Lucas likes having that claim to Eliott, even if it’s fleeting. 

He takes a deep breath. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You sure about that?” Imane lifts an eyebrow at him, smirking, and Lucas can’t do it.

“It’s nothing, Imane, okay?” Lucas responds, his voice coming out harsher than he meant it.

Imane visibly shrinks back. The smirk disappears from her face only to be replaced with concern in her eyes.

“Okay,” she says, “it’s nothing.” And then, “Are you okay?”

And how does Lucas explain he’s the most okay he’s been in years while also feeling like he’s burning up inside? It’s a delicate balance, one that feels like it might be knocked off kilter at any moment. 

“You can talk to me if you want,” Imane says quietly.

And Lucas wants to, he really does, but he doesn’t know where to start. He wants another perspective, he wants it from someone who’s been through this, someone who’s also had a bit of an unusual soulmate discovery, the purple gracing her skin first, even if it isn’t so unusual as gold. 

And Lucas thinks. Imane has always been there for him, a level-headed sounding board, someone he knows would never judge him or not take him seriously. And maybe this, talking to her, will help him figure out the swirling mess in his head.

“Okay,” he says solemnly, “but I need you to just listen first.”

Imane just nods.

So he tells her. He tells her that he and Eliott talked, and that maybe now they’re a thing, that he thinks they’re a thing, that they’re figuring it out. He leaves out the soulmate part for now, just trying to get Imane on board with the whole idea of him and Eliott being together.

And when Lucas runs out of things to say about that, he pauses for a moment, to gauge Imane’s reaction. But she doesn’t look all that surprised.

“So what do you think?” Lucas asks her.

She smiles, reaching out a hand towards him. “I think that’s great,” Imane says, and she looks so genuine that Lucas knows she means it, wants the best for them both. She goes on, “And that’s okay, you know? I know some people try and act like it’s not, but it is.”

“What?”

“Well being with people who aren’t your _ soulmate _ , you know? The whole thing is overhyped as we know. It’s okay to touch people and have it mean things and it doesn’t have to be _ the _ thing. I hope you know that.”

Lucas stills slightly, his face flushing. “Well, yes, I do know that,” he says, and he does, he was willing to do that for Eliott, would do that for Eliott, because he’s in love with him. Except. “Except…”

Imane looks at him questioningly, and before he can think too much about it, Lucas leans over, sliding his arm across the table and pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt up just enough. He knows the minute Imane sees the golden shape on his wrist because her eyes widen and he hears a sharp intake of breath. He quickly retracts his arm and pulls the sweatshirt back down. 

Imane stares at him for a beat, then another. And then suddenly her mouth opens and she’s yelling out _ I KNEW IT _ so loud that it disturbs nearby patrons. Lucas tries to shush her and reach for her to calm her down.

“Shut up!” he whispers, part of him laughing, part of him panicking that someone will take notice. “Calm down!”

Imane just grins at him. “I knew it,” she repeats. “I knew you were soulmates. I’ve been saying it since the beginning.”

Lucas mouths nearly drops open. “What do you mean you _ knew _? I didn’t even know!”

“Just had a feeling,” she responds, laughing. “Oh Lucas, I’m so happy for the two of you.”

And Lucas just wants to be able to respond _ thanks _ and laugh along with her, but he knows there was a reason he had to show her so discreetly in the first place.

“It’s just–” he starts, and Imane looks at him questioningly. “Well, it’s gold,” he whispers.

Imane looks like she’s never been so unconcerned by something in her entire life, which Lucas can’t understand when this has been consuming his mind for the past week. She shrugs, “So?”

Lucas shakes his head, unsure what she’s not understanding. “Well, it’s not supposed to be gold.”

“Who says?”

Lucas sputters. “Who says? Everyone!”

“Oh and everyone is an expert on soulmarks are they?”

“Well no, but I think everyone knows enough to know they aren’t supposed to look like this–”

“Oh, so you’re the expert now?”

“No, I just–”

Imane gives him a sympathetic smile. “I get why it’s freaking you out a bit,” she says. “It’s different. But so are the two of you, yeah?”

Lucas nods. “I guess.”

And the thing is, Lucas knows that he should be able to let this go, just accept that he might never know and move on, soulmarks and soulmates be damned. Just move forward with Eliott and see where it takes them. He thought it could do it to, that first day, the day he told Yann about them. But with each passing day, the gold has become somewhat of a fixation, something taunting him, something to remind him he doesn’t fit in, that he doesn’t get to have what other people have.

Because here’s the thing, against all odds, Lucas had managed to do the one thing he’d always hoped for – find a soulmate he loved before knowing they were soulmates. But what happens if they aren’t actually soulmates? If this golden mark is to signal a mistake? If it fades? 

What if Lucas’ soulmate was never meant to be his at all?

Imane must sense him spiraling because she reaches out a hand then, brushing against his forearm, a touch to ground him. He still flinches slightly, even though it’s Imane.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft and kind. “Hey. It’ll be fine, it will.”

Lucas gives her a weak smile. “I just want to know what it means. I want to know what the gold means.”

“I know,” Imane replies and then she’s silent for a moment, thinking. “Tell you what,” she says finally. “Let’s treat it like a research project, okay? Like the ones for class. You go see what you can find and I’ll use my resources to see what I can find and then we’ll compare notes. You know, decide on a diagnosis.”

Lucas lets out a small laugh. “Your resources?”

Imane winks at him. “Oh, my mom used to do research on soulmates,” she says, “Wrote her dissertation on it and everything. I’ll see what she knows.”

Lucas gives her a look.

“Discreetly, of course,” Imane says, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry.”

And maybe, for a moment, Lucas doesn’t.

***

It doesn’t last long.

See Lucas has always been a bit obsessed with answers. Actual ones, ones that can be explained, that make sense. He thinks it probably had something to do with the way he was brought up, his mother intent on fostering his curiosity whatever way she could. While his dad was off doing whatever his father tended to do, he would sit with his mother for hours and just ask her question after question, hungry to know more. 

And she would always give him the answer – the real answer. If he asked why the sky was blue, she told him it was because of the blue light scattered by the molecules in the air. If he asked her a question she didn’t know the answer to, she sent him to search in a set of dusty old encyclopedias they kept near the tv. It became a habit then, searching for answers when he didn’t have any.

So while Eliott might be content with letting the marks mean whatever they want it to mean, Lucas has always been more analytical than that, always wanted to _ know _. And that doesn’t change now. If an answer, a real one, exists, Lucas is going to find it.

He starts first in the library, spending hours one day pulling down book after book, searching. It’s not a topic he’s ever particularly enjoyed but he finds himself reaching for works like _ The Soulmark Phenomena: How the Marks Come to Be _ , _ The Chemistry of Soulmarks _ , and a particularly promising one: _ A Vibrant Sign: What the Colors of Soulmarks Tell Us _, but they all come up with nothing.

The only thing he finds that’s even slightly related is all the research on purple soulmarks, but even that research is limited as people haven’t started taking those marks seriously until recently, when researchers had found the importance of _ choice _ in determining whether the purple marks would change to red or blue.

Lucas finds himself lingering on that for a moment, the purple marks, wondering for a moment if there’s an element of _ choice _ at play here that made his mark gold instead. He also lingers for a moment on the possibility that his mark will eventually change, eventually become red or blue like everyone else. But that causes a pang in his heart Lucas doesn’t want to think about so he quickly pushes the thought from his mind. 

It’s not the same thing anyway. They’re talking about purple marks and Lucas’ is gold. It’s not the same. Eliott and him, they’re _ not _ the same. 

(Because if they were the same, maybe one day their marks could fade away too, and that is something Lucas cannot dwell on.)

So in his desperation, Lucas turns to Daphné. Normally he wouldn’t do this, worried that anything he says to Daphné has the potential to spread to anyone she talks to in the next 48 hours, but he’s desperate. And with her major in Soulmate Studies, she’s the closest thing he has to an expert.

He meets with her one afternoon, Amélie in tow of course, under the pretense of grabbing coffee and working on a paper he’s been assigned about soulmarks for his biology class. 

Daphné answers all his questions with rapt attention, but when he asks her about the possibility of marks being other colors, she just raises her eyebrows at him and shakes her head.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” she tells him, and how desperately he wants to pull up his sleeve and show her the glowing mark on his wrist, have her tell him that it’s not gold like he knows it is.

He pushes back. “Okay, but say there was a soulmark that came out a different color? What do you think would be the reason?”

Daphné looks at him for a second mulling it over. “Honestly, Lucas?” she asks and he nods. “I’d say it was probably a mistake.”

He knows she doesn’t mean it to hurt like it does, but it’s devastating all the same. Lucas feels like he’s gonna throw up. 

He finds an excuse to leave shortly after that when Eliott texts him, to run out into the crisp air and catch his breath, stop the way his head is spinning because that can’t be it, not with him and Eliott, he knows how he feels. 

But it’s a lot, after all the time he’s spent being scared of soulmates and soulmarks and what that meant to then feel out of place again. For once, Lucas wishes he could just blend in.

Amélie shoots him a glance as he walks out the door, pulling up his hood as he goes. It looks sad, almost, sympathetic, and Lucas wants to scream. 

He’s tired of people looking at him like that. Like there’s something broken, something that needs to be fixed.

***

**Eliott (19:37)  
** _Come over?_

Lucas stares down at the message as he paces outside Eliott’s apartment building. Idriss isn’t here, he knows, staying at some girl-he’s-been-seeing’s place. Eliott had been sure to tell Lucas so he wouldn’t be worried about yet another person finding out after Yann and Imane. 

But as Lucas stares at the door, he can’t quite make himself go up. He’s panicking, he knows, Daphné’s words playing over and over in his head. He knows she didn’t mean it like that, knows, if she knew what was actually going on, it wouldn’t have come out that way. But it doesn’t change the way his brain has latched onto it. _ A mistake. _ What if he and Eliott are a _ mistake _ ? What if the universe made a _ mistake _?

He’s being stupid, he’s being silly, he knows, but it’s hard with the way his throat feels like it’s closing, the way he wants to just turn and run. And he nearly does, he’s so close to just leaving, texting Eliott that he couldn’t make it. Going home and wrapping himself in his duvet, closing his eyes, pushing off the feelings until tomorrow.

Maybe even shutting Eliott out until he can understand what’s going on, get solid footing in the middle of a storm.

And it’s a near thing.

But then Lucas thinks of all the times his dad did that. Left, disappeared when things got hard, when things weren’t going the way he wanted them to. And he gets it, he thinks for a moment, the leaving being easier. 

But it’s not fair, not the kind of person he wants to be. And maybe he doesn’t want Eliott to see him like this, near tears, breaths coming fast and short. Doesn’t want to scare him off with another emotional breakdown, with his fears stacked up and ready to burst. But Eliott has said he wants to see him like that, wants to know him like that. It’s part of loving someone.

And Lucas knows he would want to see Eliott like this too. Has, in fact, and it changed nothing.

So Lucas takes a deep breath, willing his lungs to expand, give him a brief reprieve from the tightness in his chest, and then he’s walking up the stairs, one foot in front of the other, bringing him closer to Eliott. Closer to the only person he simultaneously wants to be around and wants to run from.

He knocks on the door, hand heavy against the wood and braces himself for the man opening the door.

“Hey! I was just about to text you and see where you were–” Eliott starts as he opens the door, but then he gets one good look at Lucas and stops talking. He throws the door open wider, and immediately wraps his arms around Lucas, holding him tight against his chest.

And Lucas collapses against him.

“What’s wrong?” Eliott whispers as he holds Lucas, as he pulls him inside, shutting the door behind him and walking him towards the couch. “Just tell me what’s wrong, love,” he says as they collapse on the couch and Eliott tucks Lucas tightly into his side, never once letting his arms release from his shoulders. 

Lucas doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to explain everything that he’s feeling inside. Because there’s a part of him that’s so happy, that’s overwhelmingly happy at the prospect of getting Eliott like this, of being able to have Eliott like this. But there’s also the part that can’t let go of the fact that they’re different. The fact that it could be a _ mistake _. He wishes he could let it go like Eliott has, wishes he didn’t fixate on it so much. But when you’ve spent the past several years decrying anything remotely soulmate related, it’s hard to give that up so quickly. It’s hard to suddenly not worry about them, to just accept them, to not stress about all the hidden meanings and harmful things Lucas had attributed to them.

The gold may be brilliant but it weighs on him.

“I’m scared,” Lucas whispers finally, as the tears start to fall, soaking the front of Eliott’s t-shirt.

“About what?”

“About us, about _ this _,” Lucas says, roughly pulling back his sleeve, gesturing to the mark.

“Lucas, I told you–”

“I know!” Lucas shouts, pulling out of Eliott’s embrace, putting some distance between them. “I know you’ve told me you don’t care, but I do! What if it fades, what if it’s a mistake?” He quiets, sad eyes peering into Eliott’s own and being met with wetness there as well. “What if we’re a _ mistake _?”

“Lucas,” Eliott pleads, softly, sweetly, gently, “I will tell you this over and over again if I have to. So many times you’ll be sick of me saying it. But baby, it doesn’t matter to me. It doesn’t matter. I want _ you _, no matter what the universe says.”

“But what if it all goes away?” Lucas manages to say between his tears, and Eliott reaches out, pulls him back and Lucas lets him. “What about then?”

Eliott only holds him tighter. “If we woke up tomorrow morning and the gold was gone from your wrist, gone from my chest, I’d still want you, I’d still love you.”

Lucas takes a shuddering breath as he cries and Eliott presses the words into his hair. “I loved you without needing the universe’s help, and I’ll continue to love you no matter what. You know why?” He places his hands on either side of Lucas’ face and gently raises his face so their eyes meet, thumbs wiping away the tears. “Because every day, I choose to love you. And I’m just going to keep choosing. If something goes wrong, we’ll talk, we’ll figure it out, but it’ll take more than some reaction on my skin to keep me from you. Okay?”

And Lucas has never loved like this, has never been loved by this. His chest burns with it, his head throbs with it, his hands shake with it and it’s all he can do to hold back a fresh wave of tears from falling over. “Okay,” he says back, a small smile breaking through his tears as he looks at Eliott. “I hope you know I choose you too.”

“I know.”

And then Eliott’s lips are on him, his hand coming up to thread through Lucas’ hair tugging him gently closer, closer, kissing him with a recklessness that makes it hard to breathe.

Because they can afford to be a little reckless now. They have each other. It the kind of surety that Lucas never allowed himself to imagine he could have. 

But here, in Eliott’s arms, it’s easier to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just want to clarify...the way I imagined it is only the first touch leaves a permanent mark, but every time soulmates touch, there's still color there, it just fades once they let go. soulmates are...unsubtle lmao)
> 
> also sorry about the gold but I just wanted to keep one thing for the last chapter 😄 you will be getting an answer about it but...send me your theories if you want. I love reading them and someone already guessed correctly 👀
> 
> as always thank you for your support! and please come say hi on tumblr!! i'm [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to leave the sappiness until the author's note at the end of the epilogue, but just want to take a moment to thank you all for reading!! you can't even imagine what all your support has meant to me over the past few months. can't believe this story is coming to a close!
> 
> ALSO just want to give a HUGE shoutout to [@mabubblebulle](https://mabubblebulle.tumblr.com/) for the [CUTEST FAN ART EVER](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/post/190539427641/fanart-inspired-by-lallemanting-s-soulmate-fic) for this fic that really gave me the motivation I needed to get it written!! (also all her drawings of elu are the cutest thing ever so please go look at them if you haven't before)
> 
> without further ado, let's finish this:

_ “Love is the only gold.” – Alfred Lord Tennyson _

There’s something about waking up in someone’s arms, Lucas thinks, that makes every day start brighter, lighter than it otherwise might. The feeling of being held, not too tight but just enough, the pressure of arms wrapped around his waist, the feeling of being held close, warmth radiating, puts a smile on Lucas’ face before he even opens his eyes.

It’s nice to be held, Lucas thinks, after all this time not being able to. But maybe it’s not just being held, maybe it’s not just the lightest of pressure that grounds him, that makes him feel safe, that keeps him warm. Maybe, as it has for a while now, it all comes down to Eliott.

Eliott with his soft smile and kind eyes. The Eliott who took one look at the tears staining Lucas’ face and pulled him close instead of pushing him away, who listened and actually  _ heard _ him when he spoke about his fears. Who didn’t take it personally, who didn’t lash out at Lucas’ worries, who understood it wasn’t about him. Who understood it takes time to heal, time to grow and move on from the things that hurt you. That one thing changing isn’t enough to undo years of pain. Eliott and all his love.

Lucas slowly opens his eyes, blinking furiously as he takes in the sight in front of him. He nestles closer to Eliott, whose pale skin looks warm in the sunlight. He presses a kiss to his collarbone, just because he can, and then leans back only enough to take in Eliott’s face. He looks peaceful in his sleep, his mouth soft, his eyes closed gently, his eyelashes standing out against his cheek. Lucas’ eyes trail downwards and Lucas feels a surge of something deep within him as he catches sight of the mark he left on Eliott, shining and  _ golden _ , reflecting bright and proud on his chest, over his heart. He leans in and presses a kiss there as well.

And then, also because he can, he reaches out to trail his fingers down the side of Eliott’s face, brushing a piece of hair off Eliott’s forehead first, and then moving his hand down, lingering at his cheekbone and drinking in the gold he leaves behind.

He wonders, for a moment, what Eliott must actually be feeling about all of this. He’d been unbelievably kind and patient with Lucas in a kind of selfless way that Lucas didn’t realize people really did. He’d put Lucas’ fears and worries over whatever must actually be going on his own head.

Lucas doesn’t doubt now that Eliott is happy about them. Seeing the way he looks at him, and the care he takes with him, Lucas doesn’t doubt that Eliott must love him, must be thrilled that Lucas is his soulmate, must be thrilled, honestly, that he’s finally found his soulmate after all this time…

Lucas hand stills as he realizes. 

_ Shit _ .  _ I’ve been making it so Eliott can’t be excited about something he’s been hoping for for years. _

In Eliott’s effort to respect Lucas’ feelings, he must, in the middle of it, forgotten to look after his own. 

Eliott shifts under his touch then, breaking Lucas’ train of thought, his breath stuttering from its peaceful rhythm in sleep and starting again a little faster as he wakes. His eyes blink open, slowly at first, adjusting to the light spilling into the room. He looks at Lucas and when he finds him looking back his mouth splits into a soft smile, lopsided and endearingly gentle and Lucas is overcome with the overwhelming urge to kiss him. 

So he does, worries suddenly forgotten. He leans in, his hand moving to grasp Eliott’s face and he pulls him close, lips brushing lips in a soft  _ good morning _ kiss, which Lucas is starting to realize is different from other kinds of kisses.

(Later Lucas will start to blush profusely when he realizes that he’s now able to differentiate types of kisses – that he and Eliott have kissed enough for him to make categories, to recognize their differences. He blushes harder when he realizes that his favorite kind is whatever Eliott has just given him.)

As he pulls back, Lucas doesn’t remove his hand from Eliott’s face. Instead he starts his ministrations again, drawing circles on Eliott’s jaw with his fingers, his eyes following the golden paths that surge onto the skin only to fade and then be replaced again.

Eliott licks his lips and then a gentle smirk appears on his face as he seems to realize what Lucas is doing. He reaches his own hand up, catching Lucas’ in his own. 

“You ever going to get tired of that?”

Lucas shakes his head. “Never.”

Eliott kisses him. He kisses him like he can’t quite help it. An  _ I love you _ kiss. And Lucas can’t get enough.

***

When they finally peel themselves out of bed, Lucas finds he stands a bit on shaky legs, teetering and off-balance as the reality sets back in.

It was easy in the softness of the morning to forget, or at least ignore, the panic that had overtaken him the night before, but here as he stands, as the day becomes real, the nervous thudding in the back of his mind is back, reminding him of his worst fears.

But he takes a deep breath, exhaling as he throws on the sweater Eliott’s loaned him and pushes the thoughts away. A battle he’ll have to fight for a while, but a worthy one, because Eliott loves him and Eliott will love him, no matter what the gold means.

(And really, Lucas thinks, tries to tell himself, he’s always been a bit wary of a red or blue mark. He’s really lucky, honestly, that his is gold. It’s more beautiful that way.)

Lucas tries to wipe his brief surge of anxiety from his face, tries to keep up the softness of the morning, relax so that when he turns around to face Eliott, who is also getting dressed, he can stop the worry.

But Eliott already knows him so well.

“You okay?” Eliott asks him quietly, searching his face.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Lucas takes a step towards Eliott, stepping around the edge of Eliott’s bed. “I’m sure. Momentary stress, but it’s gone now.”

Eliott keeps looking at him, like he doesn’t quite believe him. “I can go out and check if Idriss is there, or we can chill in here until he’s gone or whatever you want to do…”

“Eliott,” Lucas says slowly, stepping close enough to Eliott to reach up and put his hands on Eliott’s chest, his realization from the morning coming back to him, “I freaked out for a minute last night, and I’m not going to say that it won’t happen again. But,” he pauses, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of Eliott’s eye, “I love you. I want you. And I want you to be able to tell the people you care about. So let’s tell Idriss.”

“But what about the gold?”

“What about it?”

Eliott gives him a small smile. “Well I like it.”

Lucas smiles back. “I think I like it too. But we may never figure out what it means and I don’t want to wait to talk about it until that happens. Because I’ve been thinking about it and you’ve been so good about worrying about how I’m feeling about it, I haven’t stopped to ask how you’re feeling about it. You’ve been waiting for this for years. And I don’t want to take away from that excitement for you.”

Eliott stares at him, a little taken aback.

“I don’t want you to think that you can’t be excited about this because of me. You deserve to be able to tell people about this. Maybe not  _ everyone _ , because I’m not sure I’m there yet. But I want you to be able to tell the people that matter to you. You deserve that.”

Eliott blinks once, twice, and then he’s grabbing Lucas’ face and kissing him hard and deep, a toe-clenching kiss that knocks the breath out of Lucas, that makes him forget anything but the feeling of Eliott’s lips against his own. And then it’s over as quickly as it started and it takes Lucas a moment to collect himself, still unused to the way Eliott affects him.

“And I thought seeing you in my clothes was going to get me going,” Eliott breathes out, his forehead pressed to Lucas’. “You’re surprising, you know that?”

Lucas smiles and presses a chaste peck to Eliott’s lips. “I’m glad. Now let’s go tell Idriss.”

***

In the end Idriss has the calmest reaction of any of the people they’ve told so far. He smiles wide, hugs them both (Lucas eagerly realizing that he can do that now,  _ hug people _ ), and barely blinks when they reveal the gold. 

Idriss turns to Eliott and makes a show of congratulating him and telling him how happy he is for them and then as Eliott turns to make some coffee, Idriss leans close to Lucas and whispers, “Don’t overthink it, huh?”

It’s the first time Lucas is faced with the fact that people may have been paying more attention than he realized. 

It’s also the calmest Lucas has felt about someone knowing. Maybe partly because of how nonchalant Idriss acts, but also maybe because Lucas is feeling a little more determined to start accepting it himself, finding delight in the meaning he puts into it, rather than waiting on someone else to tell him what he should feel.

It feels a bit like he’s learning how to breathe again.

***

In the next few weeks, their friends find out slowly. Surprisingly, no one leaks the information to anyone else (or everyone is better actors than Lucas thought) to the point where Eliott has to tell even Sofiane, who’s seated on the couch between Imane and Idriss when he finds out. 

Sofiane seems more concerned with the fact that Imane didn’t spill it to him than he is with the gold and Lucas feels himself relax. Sofiane turns to Imane in mock outrage wondering how she could have kept this from him, her soulmate, to which she responds cooly with  _ just because you’re my soulmate, doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything _ . Sofiane only laughs and rolls his eyes affectionately at her and then she’s smiling back and the night goes on.

The days turn into weeks and Lucas can feel how everything settles, how he’s learning to trust the constants in his life. The sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening, he goes to class every week day but Friday, he calls his mom every Tuesday during his break, and the marks on Lucas’ arm and Eliott’s chest remain gold.

Lucas waits until one of his regular hangouts with Manon to tell her, feeling slightly guilty that it’s taken the better part of a month for him to get around to it, but it’d just sort of happened that way. And he wanted to be able to actually talk to her, like they do when they’re alone, rather than with an audience.

He’s sitting on Manon’s couch, as they normally do, with a mug of tea in his hands – also as they normally do.

He’s wearing a dark green sweater, one of Eliott’s actually since he’d slept over at his place again and didn’t have time to go home before his classes, with the sleeves pulled down. It’s the first time in a long time that Lucas has had to think about his attire in Manon’s presence, only because there’s something to hide, for now.

“I have to tell you something,” he says nervously.

Manon barely looks up from where she’s adjusting the volume on the tv. “You and Eliott are hooking up,” she says.

Lucas sputters. “What?”

Manon gives him a look. “Well at that party he followed you out and you’ve been acting weird ever since. I assumed you finally admitted that you liked each other and were too busy making out to do much of anything else.”

Lucas’ mouth hangs open.

“Was I right?”

“Mostly,” Lucas says. Manon smirks. “But there’s more.”

She looks intrigued. “Oh, okay. Tell me.”

“We might be...” Lucas pauses, the word still unfamiliar on his tongue, “...soulmates.”

Manon just stares at him. “Are you serious Lucas?”

“Yeah.”

She blinks a few times, setting her tea down on the table in front of the couch. “I...shit...I’m so happy for you,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That’s amazing.”

“Also, uh…” He pulls up his sleeve.

Manon makes a small noise of disbelief. “It’s gold!”

“It’s gold.”

“So you’re extra-special golden soulmates or something?” she teases.

“Yeah that’s exactly it, how’d you know?”

They both laugh, but Manon’s laugh is a little quieter than normal. She shifts in her seat, her blue sweater falling from her shoulder as she adjusts her hair again.

“No, actually, we don’t know what it means,” Lucas starts but he trails off, noticing how Manon seems transfixed by a loose thread on her jeans. “Hey,” he says gently, “are you okay?”

Manon smiles at him, a genuine if slightly reserved smile. “Yeah, of course. I’m happy for you, really, that’s amazing. You deserve it and you deserve someone like Eliott.”

Lucas smiles, partly, half his mouth upturned in acknowledgement of the kind thing she’s said to him, but the rest of his face stuck somewhere with his worries.

“You deserve something good too,” he says finally.

Manon looks up at him with wet eyes, choking out a surprised laugh. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me I think,” she says. 

Lucas only shoves her shoulder. “Oh come on, I’m plenty nice.”

“No it’s true, you are.”

“You know you can talk to me if you want.”

Manon sighs. “I know,” she says, chewing her lip as she shifts on the couch again. “It’s just that it feels like everyone is finding their soulmates and I’m being left behind. And I feel bad saying this to Imane or Daphné or now you because I’m happy for you all, I really am, but,” she pauses, “I don’t know, it’s like what we always talked about. There’s such a focus on soulmates you can feel out of place without one.”

“It could happen tomorrow.”

“Or it could never happen.”

Lucas reaches an arm around Manon’s shoulders, pulling her to him, her head resting on his shoulder. “Maybe. But the good thing is that me and the girls – and Eliott too, once you two finally properly hang out – we will never stop loving you. You’ll always have us, you know?”

Lucas can feel her smile against his shoulder. “I know. Thank you, Lucas. Who knew two weeks with a soulmate would make you so wise?”

Lucas shoves her again but then pulls her in for a hug, and this time, he gets to learn what it’s like to give the hug instead of just receive it.

“Now, let’s get back to you,” Manon says, breaking out of Lucas’ embrace, her enthusiasm apparently recovered. “How are you feeling about the gold? That must have thrown you, huh?”

“It did at first, but I’m slowly starting to feel better about it,” Lucas replies, knowing Manon well enough to know that she’s changing the subject to avoid focusing on something that makes her sad. 

But she’s been there for him before with things like this and Lucas knows that whenever she’s ready, he’ll be there to listen. It takes time for things to get easier.

***

But they get easier. It takes time but it’s like one morning Lucas wakes up, Eliott lying next to him, but in Lucas’ bed this time and the only thoughts fluttering through his head is how lucky he is to have Eliott there beside him.

There’s no racing in his heart besides the one that should be there in love. There’s no quick breaths besides the ones Eliott elicits from him. The fear is slowly being replaced by something else, each new day chipping slowly and steadily at the walls Lucas had built around himself. He decides it’s best to start preparing for the inevitable collapse.

It’s just that Eliott makes it so easy for him to forget. Forget about his worries and his problems and his fears, instead focusing on the moments they share together. The kind of love that Lucas always thought would be hard, but has been surprisingly easy. 

Because it’s something he wants. Something they both want.

It’s the best and easiest thing in his life, Lucas thinks, loving Eliott.

And there are days, even when things feel heavy and blue, that Eliott manages to bring a little light into his life: a little sunshine, a little  _ gold _ .

They’re sitting on Lucas’ sofa one day a few weeks after Lucas had met Eliott’s parents, preparing for their latest round of exams (or in Eliott’s case, another project). 

They’ve been a bit distracted, as is usual with them, especially when they study in a private place, and Lucas is trying to even his breathing, looking over at Eliott to find him smiling back with red puffy lips looking thoroughly kissed. (It’s possible Lucas feels a surge of pride in his chest at the sight.)

Eliott leans over and presses one more chaste kiss to Lucas’ lips, Lucas feeling himself flush again just from that tiniest hint of pressure, before Eliott pulls back, looking around himself. “Do you see my phone anywhere?”

Lucas looks around himself and under the pile of textbooks and notes on the coffee table. “Maybe you left it in my bedroom?”

Eliott shrugs. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Why don’t you go in there and look around and I’ll call it and see if I hear it here.”

“Okay.”

Eliott rises from the couch and makes his way down the hall to Lucas’ bedroom while Lucas pulls out his own phone and brings up Eliott’s contact pressing  _ call _ . 

He listens for a moment as the call connects, and then suddenly he’s hearing a very intense buzzing noise coming from between the couch cushions.

“Eliott,” he calls, reaching in between and pulling out Eliott’s phone. “It’s in here–”

He stops, looking down at the phone.

**destiny 💛** **   
** **Missed Call**

His breath catches as he sees his contact name in Eliott’s phone, trying to stop the blush that’s creeping up his neck.

“When did you change my contact to  _ destiny _ ,” Lucas asks as Eliott reenters the room, trying to keep his tone teasing, but his voice comes a bit higher than it otherwise might.

Eliott stops short, staring at Lucas with what seems like the slightest bit of hesitancy.

“Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

“Since I got your number. It’s dumb but I thought I could use it as a cheesy pickup line or something. Make you laugh, you know? Like,  _ oh look, destiny’s calling me _ or something. I don’t know.”

Lucas can’t help the smirk that spreads across his face. “You were going to try and pick me up with a lyric from  _ Mr. Brightside _ ?” He bites his lip, trying to stop a chuckle from escaping, but he can’t ignore the way his heart swells. 

Eliott pouts. “I know it’s dumb. But in my defense, I realized it and never showed it to you.”

“It’s not dumb,” Lucas says quietly, getting up from the couch and walking over to Eliott where he takes his hand and rubs soothing circles on the back of it. “It’s sweet. You’re sweet.”

A soft smile finds its way to Eliott’s lips. “Also it ended up making sense, so it stuck. I just added the golden heart after we found out.”

Lucas laughs. “That’s true, but I think the heart is yellow, Eliott.”

Eliott gives him a look. “Well it’s gold to me.”

“Okay,” Lucas replies. “Whatever you say.”

Eliott swipes his phone from Lucas’ hand and then looks him over once, his eyes sweeping up and down. Lucas can’t help but enjoy the attention. 

“And you?” Eliott asks, joking. “Am I still just Eliott in your phone?”

Lucas does blush then, pink spreading from his neck across his cheeks. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“I think that’s bullshit.”

Eliott lunges for his phone and Lucas tries to dodge it but he’s too slow and Eliott manages to wrench the phone from his grasp. Lucas tries to take it back but Eliott ends up just holding it high above Lucas’ head and this time it’s Lucas’ turn to pout, annoyed at Eliott using their height difference to his advantage.

“Passcode?”

Lucas shakes his head, feigning being difficult but Eliott just shrugs.

“Alright,” he says and then he takes out his own phone, unlocking it and pressing  _ call  _ on Lucas’ contact, staring at Lucas’ phone screen expectantly.

**Incoming call: Golden Boy**

Eliott’s eyes grow wide and he looks at Lucas, slightly stunned. “Golden boy?” he asks, confused, “Did you change that recently?”

Lucas feels himself blush harder, but he shakes his head. “It’s been that way for a while.”

“Since before we found out?”

Lucas nods. “Back when I was behaving like a child, I used to call you golden boy in my head, because of how much everyone seemed to like you, how perfect I assumed your life was. So, when you teased me about just  _ Eliott _ being boring, I changed it…” He trails off, looking up and meeting Eliott’s eyes, where he finds Eliott staring down at him, mouth parted a bit in surprise. “And then, like you said, it ended up making sense. So I kept it.”

Eliott stares at him in silence for a moment, while Lucas feels himself melt under the weight of Eliott’s eyes on him.

Finally Eliott breaks the silence. “God we really are something else, aren’t we?” he laughs and steps close, taking Lucas’ face in his hands. “We must annoy  _ everyone _ .”

He kisses Lucas softly then, and it’s like all the tension seeps out of him and the place where Eliott’s skin is touching him, calming him down and setting him on fire all at the same time.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Lucas says softly.

And it’s easy in that moment to forget about everything else besides the two of them, Eliott and Lucas, kissing on a rainy afternoon in Lucas’ living room.

***

When Lucas calls his mom to tell her about Eliott, the whole conversation goes a lot smoother than he’d imagined. Like most of the people close to them who they’ve told, Lucas’ mom seems altogether unsurprised.

“Thought you liked him,” she says when Lucas tells her he and Eliott are together. “There was just something about the way you talked about him.”

“Soulmates? On the first try? Good for you sweetheart,” she says when he tells her they’re soulmates. Not even a hint of sadness in her voice as she talks about it. Instead she’s simply overjoyed that Lucas had found someone he loved. “That’s the most important bit,” she tells him, “the love.”

And when he finally tells her about the gold she’s quiet for a moment, causing a spark of panic in Lucas’ chest. And then she simply says “Gold huh? My son’s a trendsetter!”

The only thing his mother is even slightly concerned during the whole call is when she’ll finally be able to meet Eliott. And that’s that. Somehow her nonchalance is everything Lucas had ever wanted. Lucas is just glad he could share it with her.

***

Lucas is leaving class when he gets the call. The caller id on his phone says the name of his mother’s facility and Lucas’ heartbeat rapidly increases without warning and he feels like the breath has been knocked out of him. Panic wells up a bit and fear takes over but Lucas shakily brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hello sweetheart,” his mother’s voice echoes in his ear and Lucas can feel himself let out a shaky breath as his anxiety floods out of him.

“Hi maman,” he replies, clutching the phone to his ear in relief.

“Darling, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just got a bit scared when I saw your facility was calling.”

“Oh shit.” Lucas lets out a startled laugh, a little unused to hearing his mother swear. “Sorry, I didn’t even think about that.”

“No it’s okay. As long as you’re okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

“Good. Why are you calling?”

His mother pauses a moment, as if collecting her thoughts.

“Well after you called yesterday, I realized there was something else I should have said.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t hide yourself away, sweetheart. There’s so much of you and you have so much love to give and you shouldn’t let fear of what other people think stop you from showing it.”

“Maman…”

“No, just listen.” She takes a deep breath. “From what you’ve told me, Eliott seems like a lovely boy who loves you. And it seems like you love him too. That’s pretty rare, sweetheart, and you deserve to be as loud about that as you want. You don’t owe anyone answers. You have to stop making yourself into the version that other people like, that’s the easiest for them to understand.”

“Maman…” Lucas tries again.

“Hold on,” she replies, laughing. “All I want to say is if you want to kiss him in the middle of the common at school, you should. And you don’t owe anyone an explanation. I know you don’t like being reckless, darling, but for this, I think you should be.”

Lucas takes a deep shuddering breath. “Okay,” he says.

So when Lucas sees Eliott across the grounds of the school at 16:15 that day, it’s his mother’s words that propel him forward, that make his legs move fast as he strides towards Eliott, grabs his face in his hands, and kisses him hard and deep in the middle of campus.

He pulls back to find Eliott’s stunned face staring back at him, his cheeks lit up in gold where Lucas is holding him.

“Hi,” Eliott says weakly, stumbling slightly to the side.

“Hi.”

“You do realize we’re on campus, right?”

Lucas chuckles. “Yeah, I realize,” he says, and then he kisses Eliott again, softer this time, delicate pressure that makes Eliott sway where he stands.

“Okay,” Eliott says once Lucas pulls back again, his voice a little higher than normal. “What changed?”

Lucas smiles. “I’ve decided I don’t care,” he begins, taking a deep breath. “I’ve decided that I don’t owe anyone answers and that if I want to kiss you in the middle of campus, I should. I’ve spent so much of my life so far denying myself the things that I wanted just because I was afraid of what might happen, but I’m tired of missing things out of fear. So if I want to kiss you, I’m going to kiss you, and I don’t care who knows, or if I ever find out what that gold mark means. Because I’m finally allowing myself to believe that the only thing that matters is that I love you, that I choose you, you know?”

Eliott beams at him, taking Lucas’ hands and intertwining their fingers. “Are you sure?” he asks, gently, searching Lucas’ face like he might find some assurance there.

“So sure,” Lucas replies. “About this and about you. It’s about time, don’t you think?”

Eliott giggles and then kisses him again, his lips soft and a bit desperate against Lucas’. Lucas just sighs into it as Eliott lets go of his hands to wrap his arms around Lucas’ neck, Lucas’ arms finding Eliott’s waist. They stand there, drinking each other in and Lucas thinks he could stay here in this moment forever, for as long as Eliott would have him. 

Lucas loses track of how long they’ve been standing there kissing until he’s broken out of his Eliott-induced bliss to the sounds of cheering behind him.

“Wait, what the hell?” Lucas hears Basile call out and he breaks the kiss to laugh, turning around.

“Hi boys,” he says not even trying to bite back his smile as he faces Yann, Arthur and Basile staring at them, Yann with a slightly proud expression on his face. One of Lucas’ arms stays wrapped around Eliott’s waist and Eliott keeps an arm thrown over Lucas’ shoulder, holding him close.

“Since when are you and Eliott together?” Basile sputters, sounding slightly offended.

“About a month,” he says sheepishly. Eliott holds him tighter, Yann smiles knowingly at him.

“A month?” Arthur asks, affronted. “And we’re only finding out about this now?”

“Yeah how could you keep that from your bros?” Basile asks.

“I was planning on telling you soon,” Lucas starts but Arthur interrupts him.

“Hold on, what’s that there on your neck?” Arthur asks, gesturing towards where Eliott’s arm meets the skin above Lucas’ sweater. Lucas feels Eliott’s hand resting there, and knows it’s probably not the kind of mark Arthur might have been expecting to see.

Lucas blushes. “We might, uh, well we might also be soulmates.”

“Soulmates?” Basile nearly screams, causing a few people walking near them to turn their heads.

“Shh, Bas, calm down,” Lucas laughs, “but yes, soulmates.”

Basile and Arthur start to cheer, jumping around while Yann only winks at him and Eliott standing there.

“Are your friends always like this?” Eliott whispers in his ear.

“Yes.”

“Good,” Eliott says, “I like it.”

Lucas lets Arthur and Basile finish up their little celebration and feels his heart clench a little at seeing his friends be happy for him like that. It’s nice to have even the newer people in his life be excited for him, to know what this must mean for him. Once they’ve calmed down a bit, Basile and Arthur both introduce themselves to Eliott. Eliott and Yann nod at each other in greeting, Yann having just seen him that morning at his and Lucas’ apartment.

But Arthur seems to catch the familiarity between Yann and Eliott and steps back, eyeing the group of them. “Wait a second, do you two know each other already?” he says, pointing at Yann and Eliott.

Eliott tries to bite back a laugh and Lucas tries to smack his arm, only to have Eliott catch his hand and hold it in his own. Lucas tries very hard to not show how much that affects him on his face.

Yann on the other hand, opens his mouth only to have no sound come out and Arthur narrows his eyes.

“You already knew!” he exclaims, making Basile’s eyes go wide.

“You told Yann but not us?” Basile asks, turning to Lucas.

Lucas shrugs. “In my defense, it was kind of hard  _ not _ to tell him,” he says, “seeing as we live together.”

Yann nods. “Yeah with the amount of time Eliott spends in our apartment, I was bound to figure it out at some point.”

Basile’s offended face shifts into something like a smirk. “Oh he spends a lot of time at your apartment, huh?” He tries to wink. “Good for you man,” he says to Lucas, clapping him on the shoulder. He leans in, lowering his voice just a bit, “He’s really attractive, isn’t he?”

“Bas!” Lucas groans, joined by Yann and Arthur. Eliott only laughs.

“Listen, it was lovely to meet all of you finally, but Lucas and I have stuff we need to do,” Eliott says.

Lucas looks at him, eyebrow raised. “What stuff?”

Eliott’s silence is enough of an answer. The other boys burst out laughing.

“I have another class, so I won’t be home for another few hours,” Yann says helpfully. Lucas rolls his eyes, feeling himself blush.

“Yeah, we won’t keep you,” Arthur says.

“Have fun!” Basile sing-songs, taking a step back, before pausing, his face breaking into a grin. “Wait! Since you found your soulmate, you can touch other people now too, right?”

Lucas nods, slightly confused.

“Then we can finally do  _ check de gang _ ,” Basile says, lifting up his hands.

“We can,” Lucas laughs, shaking his head but feeling his chest tighten a little while he looks at his friends. There’s so much love in his life recently, and he finds he’s still getting used to it. 

They all clap their hands together and laugh, Lucas slightly surprised a high five can make him feel that good. And then Eliott is taking his hand again, his palm warm against Lucas’ as they say their goodbyes and turn to walk towards Lucas’ apartment, together, as they do now.

“You okay?” Eliott says, squeezing his hand, serving as a reminder to Lucas that this is the first time they’ve done this – touch each other in public.

And Lucas waits for the panic to resurfaces, waits for his fear at people noticing, at seeing the gold and asking questions he doesn’t have the answers to. But it doesn’t come. Instead, Lucas feels nothing but warmth where their skin meets and a warmth in this chest.

“Yeah, I’m great,” he replies. And for the first time in a long time, he really means it.

***

But, as with all things, the careful and safe place Lucas has been living in can’t last forever.

It starts, as it apparently often does, with another call from his father. Another time where Lucas checks his phone, only to slam it down again, hand trembling. 

Only this time, someone notices immediately. 

Eliott watches him from across the living room, eyebrow raised, his pencil held out in the air, hovering over his sketchbook, which only moments ago had provided soothing scratching white noise while Lucas tried to study.

Lucas feels his throat get tight, all the words he thinks about saying being forgotten just as he opens his mouth. It’s a trap almost, the panic familiar and yet distant, the kind of feeling that’s been soothed since Eliott’s come into his life in this new way, in the way where most of the things he spent time worrying about disappeared.

But not this, never this.

“What’s wrong?” Eliott tries, his voice laced with the gentle kind of care that normally has Lucas melting, the kind of care Lucas still isn’t quite used to, even if he doesn’t fear it as much anymore.

Lucas opens his mouth, the words there on the tip of his tongue, but nothing comes out.

Eliott stands up from his chair by the window, placing his sketchbook and his pencils on the coffee table and then walks over to join Lucas on the couch. He reaches out gently, hesitating for a moment before taking Lucas’ hand in his. Lucas shudders at the contact but doesn’t pull away.

“Your dad?” Eliott asks, his voice quiet and soft, a refuge from the storm in Lucas’ head.

Lucas nods. Of course Eliott could tell. He knows, he always knows, when it comes to Lucas.

They sit there for a moment in silence, Eliott drawing soothing circles on the back of Lucas’ hand as Lucas rides out the burst of adrenaline he got when he saw his dad’ name flash up on the screen. A minute passes, then another. Finally, Eliott speaks again.

“Can I help?”

Lucas feels himself relax. It’s an easier question to answer than  _ what’s wrong _ and makes Lucas feel like he actually can ask for help if he needs it.

“I don’t know what to do,” Lucas whispers, not quite answering the question but knowing Eliott will understand anyway. 

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No.”

“Do you need to talk to him?”

That question stops Lucas for a moment. On the surface, no, Lucas doesn’t  _ need _ to speak with his father. Logistics are already figured out, they can communicate with text if need be. But Lucas knows that’s not quite what Eliott is asking. Eliott’s asking if he needs to talk to him to put his mind at ease, to make sure he’s not calling about his mother, to stop the unnecessary worrying before it’s begun.

Lucas nods. “Maybe,” he says, and Eliott gives him a reassuring smile. He looks down at where their hands are grasped together, at the gold swirling there, and feels like he can breathe a little easier, feels a little stronger, a little more in control. “Can you stay?”

Eliott kisses his temple. “Of course.” 

“Thank you,” Lucas says, his voice small.

Eliott reaches for Lucas’ chin with the hand not holding Lucas’ and tilts his face so their eyes meet. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, okay? You just have to ask.”

Lucas smiles and presses his forehead against Eliott’s, taking a deep breath. 

“Okay?” Eliott asks again.

“Okay,” Lucas replies, and then he picks up his phone and calls his father back.

(It ends up being nothing, his father calling to try and check in, and Lucas listens, responds, and gets through the call just like every other time, just like he needs to. But, as he’s noticed recently, facing that daunting thing with Eliott by his side makes it all a little easier. And it’s enough.)

***

Spring comes with a kind of desperate rush that leaves Lucas wondering when he traded in scarves and thick coats for light sweaters and t-shirts. 

For the first time in a long time, Lucas finds himself not worrying about if the material of his sweatshirt is thick enough or if he has a hood, or something to cover his neck. Instead he just wears what he wants, t-shirts if the spring afternoons are warm enough for it, or Eliott’s worn sweaters with the gaping necks that he steals because, as he tells Eliott, they’re softer than his own (or, as he doesn’t tell Eliott, they smell just like him).

He finds, more often than not, even around campus, he feels relaxed. Sometimes, when he pushes the sleeves of his too-large sweaters up his arms, he finds people staring at the mark there on his wrist, brilliant and shining as ever. But as the weeks pass by, Lucas finds he cares about the staring less and less. He even sometimes, finds it makes him feel a little proud standing out, being different, in his love for Eliott. It turns out he kind of likes being a mystery.

And it’s probably a good thing, because as time passes, it seems less and less likely they’ll ever  _ really _ find out what the gold means. Imane hadn’t been able to find anything in her mother’s old textbooks, and even the specialists at his mother’s center, who were supposedly experts in all things soulmark-related, had been stumped. It’s a relief when Lucas realizes he doesn’t really care. Because he doesn’t need to.

He’s standing outside of the art building one Friday chatting with Imane and Sofiane, who are perched on a picnic table set out in the square. It’s late afternoon, nearing evening, and the sun has just started to make its way down the sky, hitting everything with a kind of soft golden light. (It’s become Lucas’ favorite time of day, because the warmth the light gives everything reminds him of Eliott. Then again, everything good reminds him of Eliott these days.)

There’s a gentle breeze in the air that smells like spring, like rebirth, like coming home. It shakes the new leaves in the trees and makes Lucas smile. Sofiane and Imane are telling him about the project they’ve been working on at the rec center, a kind of afterschool program to keep kids busy once they’re done with school, especially if their parents are stuck at work. Sofiane is telling him about the classes he wants to put on – dance for sure, but maybe art too, painting or sketching.

Lucas smiles. “You should ask Eliott,” he says, “you know that’s exactly his kind of thing.”

Suddenly an arm wraps around his neck and a pair of lips kisses his cheek. Lucas doesn’t even react. His days of flinching whenever anyone gets near are over. Especially when it’s him. And it’s often him.

“Hey baby,” Eliott whispers in his ear, in a voice just for him. Lucas leans into Eliott’s touch. “Talking about me?” Eliott asks, louder now, speaking to the group.

“Why would I be talking about you?” Lucas teases and Eliott justs rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s be honest, Lucas,” Imane says, smirking, “you talk about Eliott more often than not.”

“Hey,” Lucas protests, but then they’re all laughing, and it’s so nice and easy and Lucas feels a lightness in his heart that always seems to come with a change in the seasons, though this time it seems like it wants to stay.

“It’s okay,” Eliott replies. “I get it, I’m very interesting.” Lucas shoves him, but only a little, before wrapping his arm around Eliott’s waist and pulling him close again. 

“No Sofiane and Imane were just telling me about their project at the rec center and I thought you might be able to help them,” Lucas says.

“But only if you want,” Sofiane cuts in. 

Imane smirks. “To be honest, I think Eliott kind of owes us.”

“Oh yeah?” Eliott challenges. 

“Yeah, for setting up you and Lucas,” Imane laughs. “And then fixing the mess you two made of that first meeting.”

“Hey, don’t put that on Eliott. It was kind of my fault,” Lucas says, happy it’s something they can joke about now.

“Yeah, somehow that’s not surprising,” Imane says, but it lacks any real bite. 

“But we got there in the end,” Eliott says, and Lucas reaches his head up to press a kiss against Eliott’s jaw. Imane makes gagging noises. 

“As if you two are any better!” Lucas exclaims, gesturing at Sofiane and Imane in front of him.

“He has a point,” Sofiane says. 

Imane rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she says. “Eliott, we’ll text you about the project. Just let us know.” Eliott nods. “And we’ll see you guys tonight at Daphy’s party?”

Lucas and Eliott both tell her they will and then Sofiane and Imane are standing up from their place on the table, saying their goodbyes and heading off towards the other side of campus where Imane has one more class for the day. Lucas was nearly in the same lab but he managed to get the one earlier in the day, which seeing as him and Eliott finish around the same time on Fridays, he’s now infinitely grateful for.

Eliott takes his arm down from around Lucas’ neck, separating them just enough to slide his hand down and grab Lucas’ hand, intertwining their fingers. “Dinner?” he asks, the sun shining across Eliott’s face in a way that makes him shine, the brightest thing Lucas has ever seen. Lucas want to grab him and never let go. But they have time for that later. They have all the time they need.

“Dinner,” Lucas affirms and they head off past the buildings together, hands linked, hearts happy.

***

That night Lucas really lets go. Eliott, with a soft smile and a hand squeeze tells him before the party that he can be as messy as he wants – Eliott doesn’t drink much anyway, and he knows that Lucas has had to hold back for years for fear that someone will touch him while he’s out of it.

He’s grateful for the way Eliott just kind of knows these things about him, that Lucas doesn’t have to say anything, doesn’t even have to ask and Eliott’s already figured out what he needs, or at least the next nice thing he’s going to do for him. It’s one of the things Lucas loves about him.

Lucas enters the party wearing a denim button-down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, soulmark on proud display, dragging a grinning Eliott behind him by the hand. It’s already rowdy when they get there - hosted not in Daphné’s prim and proper apartment but rather in Amélie’s old townhouse on the edge of campus that she shares with three other girls from school. It’s a more party-appropriate space and Lucas can imagine Daphné can have more fun not constantly worrying about whether or not something is being stained. (He also thinks Amélie knows this, which is probably one of the reasons she offered up her house in the first place.)

The music is loud and the space is packed, but Lucas isn’t dettered, revelling in the fact that he can push by people, squeeze between shoulders, shove between large groups congregated in circles, all while holding his boyfriend’s hand and not have to worry about  _ any  _ of it. (It’s easier with Eliott so close, but Lucas has learned to accept that’s just the way his life is now.)

He spots his friends congregated in the corner of the kitchen, Yann perched on the counter and Arthur and Basile leaning against it. They wave him over when they spot him, Yann reaching behind where he’s sitting to pull out two beers.

“Eliott!” Basile shouts when they get close, holding out his fist for Eliott to bump. “It’s so good to see you man!”

Eliott holds back a laugh as Lucas stares at whatever is happening in front of him.

“Hi Bas. Yeah, I’m here too,” Lucas teases as he shoves Bas’ shoulder and takes the beer Yann offers him. 

“I know, but I see you way more often,” Basile says. “Plus, Eliott is  _ so _ much cooler.”

Eliott does laugh then and Lucas makes an affronted noise, pulling Eliott into his side.

“Don’t worry baby,” Eliott says, kissing the top of his head, “you’re still cool to me.”

“Alright, that’s enough of you two being all loved up for now,” Yann announces, jumping down from the counter. He offers Eliott a beer but Eliott shakes his head. Yann shrugs and sets it down on the counter. “I’m stealing him for a little while,” Yann says, taking Lucas by the elbow and slowly peeling him away from Eliott. “We need bro time.”

“That’s okay,” Eliott laughs. “I should probably find Idriss and Sofiane anyway.”

Lucas is proud to say the sound that leaves him as he’s being pulled away from Eliott is only slightly audible.

“I’ll come find you in a bit,” Eliott promises, and then Lucas is being swept out into the crowd, Yann tugging him along and Arthur and Basile following diligently behind.

“Here!” Yann shouts once they’ve made their way into what Lucas can only assume is the living room. There are people everywhere and the lights have all been turned off save for some multicolored ones that keep flashing, giving the room an otherworldly feel.

“What’s here?” Lucas asks, his voice raised to compete with the music. He notices his first beer is empty at the same time Yann does, only to have a second one being placed into his hand.

“We’re going to dance,” Yann shouts and Basile and Arthur scream along and Lucas suddenly realizes what this is. After years of being confined to the edges of rooms, of drinking one beer most nights, two if he was pushing it, of being constantly held back from letting go completely, his friends are going to help him do everything he was missing out on, everything he was holding himself back from, the stuff he’d only ever confessed to Yann he was sad he was missing out on. His heart swells at the thought and he can’t help the wave of happiness that rushes over him, the incredible feeling of luck that grips at his chest.

“You ready?” Yann says in his ear.

“Let’s do it,” Lucas replies.

So they do.

They start in the middle of the dance floor, drinking and screaming along to whatever songs come up on the playlist and Lucas can’t stop laughing the alcohol starting to kick in at some point making everything a little smoother around the edges, a little funnier, a little lighter.

It’s not that Lucas wants to get trashed tonight, seeing as the last thing he really wants to do not be able to remember it, or spend his early morning hours getting acquainted with the tiles in his bathroom. It’s just that he doesn’t want to have to care so much, worry about the details, constantly keep tabs on whether people are getting too close or not. He just wants to  _ be _ . And this is giving him the chance to do just that.

A few drinks in and several songs later, the boys make a break for the back of the house, desperate for some fresh air and a break from the mass of sweaty bodies. Yann pulls out a joint and the boys all cheer, but then Lucas hears someone call for him.

“I’ll join you guys in a minute,” he says. The boys nod and head towards the bathroom, where Lucas knows he’ll probably find them all perched in the bathtub when he joins them in a minute.

_ Lucas! _ he hears again, and turns to find Daphné hurtling towards him, Amélie in tow. 

“Oh I’m so glad you’re here,” Daphné exclaims, looking like she’s about to hug him, but stopping herself at the last second. “Is it true?” she says excitedly.

“Daphné,” Amélie groans behind her, “leave him alone.”

Lucas laughs, raising an eyebrow. “Is what true?”

“You and Eliott, you’re together? And you’re soulmates?”

Lucas smiles, an  _ oh-we’re-talking-about-Eliott-now _ kind of smile. He can’t help it. “Yeah,” he says, his voice soft and happy, “Yeah it’s true.”

“Oh my god!” Daphné squeals, reaching out and pulling Lucas in for a tight hug. It surprises him at first but then he relaxes into it, hugging her back. “Let me see, let me see!” she says as she pulls back, reaching unconsciously behind her to ensure that Amélie is still close. Lucas knows what she’s asking for.

He smiles sheepishly and lifts his arm, holding his wrist up to the light, the gold shining and bright and strong. It grows on him every time he sees it, and he takes note of the pride that swells in his chest as he watches Daphné and Amélie notice it.

“Oh my god,” Amélie says slowly. “That’s gold.” Lucas chuckles.

“It’s beautiful,” Daphné whispers. And then something like recognition flits across her face and suddenly she looks horrified. She opens her mouth to speak but Lucas beats her to it.

“It’s okay Daphné,” he says, reaching out and grabbing her shoulders, knowing that Daphné remembers their previous conversation. “You didn’t know. How could you? You just told me what you thought was the truth. Can’t blame you for that.”

She still looks like she wants to say something. “If I had known…” she starts, but she trails off, probably noticing the way that Lucas holds no anger in his face. “Do you know what it means?” she asks instead.

Lucas shakes his head. “No, and the more I look, the more I think we’re never going to find out. But that’s okay, because Eliott and I are together and we want to be together and no mark on our skin is going to change that.”

Daphné gives him a warm smile and Amélie steps up pulling him in for a quick hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” she whispers and then she pulls back giving him a once over. “Though if it took the two of you any longer, I was about to show up and force you both to tell each other how you felt. Ask Daphné, watching the way you two pined for each other across parties was  _ agonizing _ .”

Daphné and Amélie both laugh and Lucas can’t help but join in, realizing now how it must have looked to an outsider, with Eliott and him tiptoeing around each other.

“There you are,” Lucas hears suddenly from behind him, and instantaneously he feels himself relax. It’s a little ridiculous the effect Eliott has on him.

“Hey love,” Lucas says, turning towards the voice, the alcohol making his tongue a little looser as he tries out the word. He watches as Eliott’s face flushes, how his steps grow bigger to close the distance between them, and Lucas tucks that information away for later, eager to see just what calling Eliott  _ love _ could get him.

“Missed you,” Eliott says when he reaches him, his arms immediately finding Lucas’ waist as he presses Lucas’ back against his chest, holding him.

“What’s it been, half an hour?” Daphné teases and Lucas rolls his eyes.

“Ha ha,” Lucas says playfully. “Like you and Amélie are any better.”

“Babe, he has a point,” Amélie says and Daphné just turns to look at her, blushing when they make eye contact.

“Whatever,” Daphné replies and leans in to kiss Amélie, their skin coloring red momentarily where they meet. 

Lucas shifts to cover Eliott’s hand with his own where it’s placed on his stomach, his heart beating a little faster when it glows gold.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Eliott says finally, “but I haven’t danced with my boyfriend all night and I’m dying to finally get the chance. So if you don’t mind…”

Daphné squeals but the two of them wave Eliott and Lucas off and Lucas feels himself suddenly being twirled in Eliott’s arms to face him, Eliott smirking and then taking his hand, leading him back into the action.

Lucas is at a pleasant level of drunk, not sloppy by any means, but just enough that most of his inhibitions have started to lift, which makes dancing that much more fun. They move in tandem, jumping and laughing, never once moving beyond where the other can touch them. Lucas feels like his heart might burst and all he wants to do is kiss Eliott.

So he does. 

Their lips slide together, sloppy and deep but gentle, Eliott biting at his bottom lip, sending sparks up and down Lucas’ spine and he whines and tries to pull Eliott closer. It’s a fire, a burn that’s sending Lucas somewhere new, an intoxicating and addicting feeling that Lucas is still not over. And with every new kiss, it seems unlikely he ever will be.

Finally Eliott pulls away just enough to speak, their foreheads pressed together as they continue to sway.

“I love you,” Eliott whispers, close enough to be heard even with the overpowering music. 

“I love you too,” Lucas replies. His heart has never felt so full.

And for the first time ever the only thing Lucas has to worry about is the pressure of Eliott’s hands on his waist, the feeling of Eliott’s hair in his hands, his lips on his neck, the temperature in the party rising around him, the way the gold spreads and shines between them.

It’s a bit like painting, Eliott had said to him once, a bit like art, the way soulmarks are created, the way your touch can stain skin. Even the touches that aren’t permanent, even the pictures that are created only to fade away again, tell a story in their own right, capture a feeling, display an emotion. It’s one of the reasons Eliott fell in love with art in the first place, since he saw it all around him, on people’s arms and hands and cheeks and knees, stories pressed into skin.

It’s so different from how Lucas saw soulmarks, but infinitely more beautiful. He finds Eliott does that – brings more beauty into his life.

And maybe Lucas doesn’t always get art, but he does get Eliott and he does get  _ this _ now, the thrill of his touch staining someone else’s skin.

So all Lucas can think as the music plays on, strong and steady and loud, is how grateful he is that he gets to make art with Eliott.

***

It’s months later that he finds out. Lucas is walking to Eliott’s apartment towards the end of the summer, groceries for the meal he’s planning to cook for them swinging in his hands.

It’s Imane who sends it to him. 

**Imane (17:07)** **   
** _ Guess what I found in the back of my mom’s closet when we were cleaning _ .  _ It’s been out of print for like 50 years _ .

Attached is a scan of an ancient-looking page from an old book entitled: The Definitive History of Soulmates. The page is weathered, some of the ink faded and rubbed away. But there it is, the chapter title: The Golden Ratio.

Lucas skims the page, drinking in the words as his eyes run over them, a moment passing before it hits him, before the meaning sinks in and it’s all Lucas can do to stay standing.

His heart is beating fast, like it does every time he thinks about Eliott and there’s a fire in his chest, a momentum pushing him forward, towards the thing that calls to him like a beacon: Eliott.

And so Lucas runs to him – to Eliott – the words running over and over in his mind, a smile spread wide across his face, his heart in his hands, and his head among the stars.

_ The Golden Ratio _

_ Despite what some experts will tell you, there is evidence to suggest that soulmarks may appear in a color other than blue or red (or perhaps the purple marks from recent reports). _

_ From stories passed down among generations, hidden in the allegory of famous myths and legends, there are whispers of golden soulmarks, an exceedingly rare incident reserved for the most special of circumstances. So rare, in fact, that in modern times there are no publicized incidents of this occurring. However, there are documented cases of such a thing from many years ago. _

_ So what does a golden soulmark mean? Although the study of these soulmarks have long since fallen out of practice due to their relative infrequency, evidence would suggest that golden soulmarks indicate soulmates having fallen in love prior to their first touch. A relationship built not on the knowledge of being one another’s soulmate, but instead on the choice to love one another, despite the odds: evidence of a choice made, despite the inevitable destiny. _

_ Like the golden ratio in mathematics which deals with aesthetic proportions, something about golden soulmarks denotes a naturally beautiful alignment with the way things are: of two pieces fitting together in such as way as to create something bigger than themselves. Pieces, yes, but ones that can’t be replaced or changed without ruining the underlying balance and beauty.  _

_ In our modern society it is not hard to understand why these soulmarks have become so rare, but there is something quite romantic still in the notion that at some point in history a pair of lovers fell in love only to discover it was destiny all along. Perhaps in our lifetimes we will see the golden soulmark appear again. But only, it seems, with a most special kind of love. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so did I write this entire fic based off the fact that élu means the chosen one? maybe, perhaps, you tell me
> 
> epilogue coming in a minute lol
> 
> come scream with me on tumblr [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/)


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eliott got a little chatty, so here's a little epilogue from his POV:

The first time Eliott saw Lucas had been a bit like getting hit in the head. It stunned him at first, how he instantly felt drawn to this stranger, this boy he didn’t even know. A boy with wild hair and blue eyes and a disarming determination which was at the time, apparently set on proving Imane wrong. 

Eliott had filled his glass with water, subtly tried to ask Idriss about his sister’s friend knowing it wouldn’t work and he’d be mercilessly teased about his crush for the rest of time, and that was it.

It struck Eliott, that this kind of feeling, that this kind of connection couldn’t be just accidental, that it had to mean something more, but he was going to university hours away and besides, Lucas didn’t deserve someone broken like him.

So he tried to forget, push Lucas out of his mind because it was easier to forget him than face the reality that he’d probably never get the chance to say more than a few words to the boy, and hell, he didn’t really know him anyway, besides Idriss’ casual approval of him as a  _ good kid _ . It was all in Eliott’s head, just like everything else. So he learned to forget.

But then everything went to shit. Eliott had become too comfortable, losing track of himself, so determined to prove that he could do it without help that he didn’t bother to ask when he needed it. And he fell. 

It was dark for a while, after. And in the middle of that Eliott had to create his own light, his own relief, something that could make it all a little easier. And suddenly it all became about finding his soulmate. It was like a mission, touch as many people as possible until there’s red or blue on your skin, until something makes you feel whole again.

Only...it never really works that way. Eliott had been home a few months when Idriss mentioned him again,  _ Lucas _ . How he’d be at Sofiane and Imane’s soulmate party, how Imane and Idriss thought Lucas and Eliott should meet, how well they probably get along. And suddenly the only thing Eliott could remember was the blue of Lucas’ eyes meeting Eliott’s for a moment only as he sat in the Bakhellal kitchen. 

Eliott had been so excited to meet him, so excited to finally put a name to the feeling in his chest, the pull that had been there since the beginning, the call that Eliott wasn’t sure could be explained away as nothing.

And then Lucas had opened his mouth.

In the end it was probably for the best, that the Lucas in his dreams never actually materialized. That Eliott was forced to actually know Lucas, with all his flaws, hold him up like a precious gem and inspect the imperfections, only to find he kind of liked them all along.

It was the best feeling in the world when Eliott realized he was falling in love. And maybe Eliott should have been preparing himself since that first moment he saw him, but he still wasn’t quite expecting it. Until one day he was texting Lucas and realized he hadn’t thought about finding his soulmate in weeks. That in the grand scheme of things, Eliott had lost that desire deep in his chest to find them, to be marked like that – or at least it had been replaced by something else. The moment Eliott realized that the whole soulmate thing paled in comparison to Lucas was the moment he knew there was no going back. So he never even tried.

Eliott steps back, hands on his hips, tilting his head to one side as he looks at the wall in front of him. It baffles him sometimes to think about how far him and Lucas have come – excitement and wonder and coming home.

“Does that look level to you?” Eliott hums, sighing contentedly as a pair of arms wraps around his waist and a chin comes to rest on his shoulder.

“I think it looks great,” Lucas says, his voice quiet in Eliott’s ear. It still sends shivers down his spine, even now, more than a year since Eliott’s touch stained Lucas’ skin. Eliott can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, the one Idriss had termed his  _ idiot _ smile, seeing as it apparently made him look a bit dopey. (Also because it’s one he apparently exclusively uses around Lucas.) But Eliott finds he doesn’t care.

“Are you even looking?” Eliott teases, bringing his own hands up to cover the ones wrapped around his middle, stroking the skin and reveling in the gold shapes he can make.

“My love, of course I’m looking.” 

_ My love. _ Shit, Eliott will never get tired of hearing Lucas say things like that. 

“I don’t think you are.”

“It looks fine to me!” Lucas says, chuckling, “but I’m not sure we should trust my sense of design. You’re the artist here after all.”

They stand staring at the painting for a moment, the familiar shades of red and blue at opposite edges of the canvas, the places where they meet interspersed with gold. Eliott smiles as Lucas presses a kiss just below his ear.

“You know I still can’t believe you called it,” Lucas says, laughing. “How the hell could you have guessed?”

Eliott spins in Lucas’ arms, bringing his hands up to caress Lucas’ face. “I didn’t, not really. I just wanted to paint how I was feeling at the time. All confused because I knew I liked you to the point that I was willing to forget about all the soulmate stuff just because I knew you didn’t like it. But at the same time wanting something strong and real.”

He pauses, brushing Lucas’ hair back as he looks at him.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Eliott whispers, pressing a soft kiss to Lucas’ lips before he spins out of Lucas’ embrace to look back towards the painting. He smirks, glancing towards Lucas who stands frozen in place, a blush spreading down his neck like it always does when Eliott compliments him. It’s why he keeps doing it. He loves to see what other colors he can paint on Lucas’ skin.

“Anyway, I wanted to show something breaking through those colors but I still wanted it to look good, so most colors were out because it would clash. I thought about purple, but that already had a meaning, and then I thought maybe black because it was bold but that felt too dark and then my professor suggested gold and, I don’t know, it just felt right.”

“Guess we know why,” Lucas laughs, apparently come unstuck from where he was standing. “I love it there.”

“Me too,” Eliott says, staring at where it hangs above their clumsy secondhand table.

“It needed to be on display.”

“You just like to show off,” Eliott smirks, teasing Lucas for his newfound love of short sleeves, even as the temperature has started to dip. Ever since they found out the meaning behind it, Lucas had been even more eager to show off his soulmark, as if daring people to ask him what the gold meant. He’d never seen Lucas more smug than when he’d explained it to one of Eliott’s particularly annoying aunts.

“Have you seen yourself?” Lucas replies casually, moving over to their couch to pick up his nice shirt from where it’s draped over the back of it. “I’d have to be stupid to not want to show off the fact that your  _ mine _ . It’s quite the confidence boost for me.”

“Shut up,” Eliott says, blushing, but he loves seeing Lucas like this – confident and carefree and happy. And the fact that Eliott gets to play a part in that makes everything else fade away.

“What time are your parents getting here?” Lucas calls from the bathroom, where he is probably trying to tame the unruly mane on the top of his head. Eliott doesn’t know why Lucas bothers – Eliott’s parents have already seen his hair in a variety of states and Eliott likes it best when it does what it wants anyway, but Lucas is constantly trying to make a good impression, even now, even when it’s literally seared into their skin that they can’t get rid of each other. It’s sweet.

“An hour I think,” Eliott calls back. “We’re still going to see your mom tomorrow right?”

Lucas comes out of the bathroom and nods his head. “Yeah she’s finally settled in to her new place, so she said it’s fine. Though we’re going to have to pick up breakfast on the way because I promised her pancakes.”

Eliott smiles. “Of course you did,” he says fondly. After some back and forth with Lucas’ dad, they’d finally managed to secure a better situation for Lucas’ mother too, getting her some more independence and also nearer to Lucas. Eliott thinks it’s helped Lucas heart feel a little lighter having her close. And it seems to have done wonders for her as well.

“Thank you again for agreeing to come. She always bothers me about seeing you,” Lucas says, kissing Eliott’s cheek as he wanders into the kitchen to grab some plates to set the table. “I think she might like you more than she likes me.”

Eliott only laughs. His heart feels like it could burst out of his chest at the sight before him, the way Lucas just moves around in a space that’s all theirs, the way Eliott can see the gold shining on Lucas’ wrist, the way he can feel his own mark running warm on his chest. It’s the most content he’s ever felt, his heart whole and steady and true.

It’s not that the bad days don’t come anymore. It’s just that they’re a little easier to face. Something that was once dark and cold and gray now always a little warmer at the edges.

Eliott finally has his own rose-colored glasses. Only his are tinted gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW Y'ALL!! I actually cANNOt believe that this is done. It's so bittersweet to let my fwog babies go, because they're so near and dear to my heart, but i'm so excited to have finished this story for you all.
> 
> thank you so so much for all your lovely kudos and comments and tags and messages on tumblr ❤️I've loved writing this story but the process was just that much better knowing so many of you were enjoying the ride too!! you are all seriously the best.
> 
> if you ever want to come and yell about elu or various other things, you can always find me on tumblr [@lallemanting](https://lallemanting.tumblr.com/)
> 
> so much love ❤️❤️


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